


Are You There, God? It's Me, Draco

by floweringjudas (manipulant)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Banshees, M/M, disparaging references to religions, wizarding government
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 14:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10595556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manipulant/pseuds/floweringjudas
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are straight Aurors. Then they're gay teachers. It makes sense, in context.





	

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for summer H/D Holidays fest 2007 for Calyxess
> 
> FAIR WARNING: this is MASSIVELY uneven, and the religious references are shoehorned in because I thought they were funny at the time and wouldn't give them up. essentially, I signed up for a fest, thought up a plot, PROCRASTINATED, didn't realize til I got halfway through that it'd be 25k words, panicked, and did the best I could in the 2 days I had left til deadline
> 
> which is basically how I spent most of 2000-2010 tbh

Cynics and conspiracy theorists and his ex-girlfriends (which constituted a surprisingly high number) said that Minister Weasley had arranged the whole thing: in the wake of Voldemort's death, wizarding journos had of course predicted that Minister Scrimgeour's party (the Saved Your Arses And Don't Bloody Forget It party - wizarding politics was refreshingly direct in a handful of aspects) would trounce the Fudge party (the How Were We To Know?s) in the next general election. And this had, of course, happened.  
  
However, no wizarding journos (not even those for the _Quib_ , which had been the only publication not to predict a landslide victory for Scrimgeour, opting instead to go with the Sex, Drugs, and Music With Rocks In party candidate Stubby Boardman) had had even an _inkling_ of the story that broke in the wee small hours of the morning, only a fortnight into Scrimgeour's new reign.  
  
No one really even knew what _happened_ , not really, though many reporters looking for fame or a quick tumble purported to have the real story. All anyone knew is that it involved an abnormally busty house-elf named Bonken, a longneck bottle of butterbeer, a hastily-written resignation, and a grainy photograph of former Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour disappearing into a Heathrow terminal at 3 o'clock in the morning one Saturday. The press had a field day that Sunday (it launched Colin Creevey's career - he'd taken the Heathrow Photo and promptly sold the rights to the Prophet), especially when they found out that both the Minister and the elf (who'd been checked into the luggage hull as a particularly rare breed of dog) had hightailed it to the Caribbean. By Monday, the Department of Irregular Affairs had managed to translate the governmental policies regarding chain of command out of their original Goblin texts, and so when wizarding England awoke to the start of a new business week, they discovered they had a brand new Minister for Magic.  
  
According to a 900-year-old law, the mantle of Minister was automatically removed from Scrimgeour's shoulders as soon as his aeroplane crossed over international waters (this law was usually circumvented by Apparation), and had fallen to his most senior staff member: his 24-year-old personal assistant, Percy Ignatius Weasley.  
  
The public outcry had been deafening and, amazingly, incredibly shortlived - within a _month_ , Percy had restructured Ministry departments to promote cooperation instead of in-fighting. Then, in a fit of Gryffindor pique, he Transfigured a set of donkey ears onto the widely-criticised and generally insufferable man that Washington's Beige House had sent to head up their "advisory committee" on how best to reconstruct war-torn wizarding London. The Aurors had a bit of luck in locating three known Death Eaters, the Galleon - Dollar exchange rate began to even out, and within six months, Percy Weasley was enjoying the highest popularity ratings of any Minister since old Peasegood had managed to keep Christmas alive during the Interregnum.  
  
Then, on the fifth of November, there was a massive explosion at Gringotts. Twenty-eight people dead, dozens missing, hundreds injured. St. Mungo's was flooded and the Gringotts building itself, which had stood for over a millennium, was in shambles. The official government report, filed two weeks later by the DMLE and a team of muggleborn architects and construction foremen/elves/goblins, said that one of the dragons that had guarded the high-security vaults had somehow managed to ingest a highly explosive amount of nitro-glycerin and gunpowder. A team of dragon experts (headed up by the Minister's brother) had been called in to examine the habitat of the dragon and its remains - their findings corroborated that of the study done by the builders. Not even trace amounts of coal could be found at the site, and no one could account for how a dragon would have managed to eat nitro-glycerin twenty floors below London's streets. The explosion was declared a terrorist attack. Minister Weasley visited the families of victims. The next week, two Aurors found a cache of half-starved former Death Eaters hiding out in a forest in Wales, stocking up on all the potions ingredients needed to make a huge amount of explosives at the local apothecary.  
  
A month later, the same two Aurors foiled a plot to blow up the Underground.  
  
Six weeks later, the same Auror team uncovered a massive Ministry spy ring. Minister Weasley was shocked (and, according to _Witch Weekly_ utterly heartbroken) to discover that his longtime personal assistant Miss Moneypenny had been in league with the conspirators. However, this startling personal revelation about a mostly-reclusive public figure was completely overshadowed by the identities of the two Aurors that had consistently managed to save wizarding England from harm: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had been photographed coming out of the Department of Justice, bruised and tired and dishevelled.  
  
And _holding hands._  
  
...Of course, they hadn't actually been holding hands. A melting hex cast by one of the spies had bound their wrists together by the skin, and neither of them had had time between briefings and debriefings to get to a Healer to get it fixed. Wizard press had never been particularly hampered by the burdens of proof and truth, however, and so the Evening Prophet headlines had screamed GAY AURORS IN LOVE and much had been made of the epic tale of Harry's and Draco's supposedly-former schoolboy enmity which had, in a long-standing tradition embraced by romance novel readers and writers everywhere, gradually morphed into a deep, passionate, frequently sweaty love. Several of Harry and Draco's old schoolmates enthusiastically offered recollections of heated Quidditch matches and schoolyard duels, and even Ginny Weasley had mentioned how Harry had always seemed very preoccupied with Draco during their brief fling at Hogwarts.  
  
The _real_ truth was much less dramatic, and involved less recreational sweat. After the war was over and life had regained a passing semblance to peaceful, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had gone into the Ministry's Auror training programme. To their unending chagrin, they'd been the top two graduates and were, by default, paired together. Both of them suspected the whole thing was a monumental prank perpetrated by Mad-Eye Moody and Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin, but as they appeared to be successful at all of their missions, none of their superiors took their transfer requests at all seriously. And after the _Prophet_ broadcast their purported love, Head Auror Shacklebolt was even _less_ inclined to shift them to different partners, citing the potential for increased tension in the department. Harry's insistence that he was, actually, _heterosexual_ didn't seem to faze anyone.  
  
A month, two days, twelve hours, four department meetings, seven _Prophet_ articles and one _Witch Weekly_ spread later, both Harry and Draco found themselves in the young Minister's Oblong Office, awaiting an appointment neither of them had known they'd had til Grawp (the Minister's bodyguard) had shown up at DMLE HQ and stuffed them both in his pocket. Their hair was still wet from an impromptu dip in the Loch Ness (there'd been a plot to explode the lake and expose Nessie and the existence of the magical world to Muggles once and for all), and Draco made a face as Harry dripped all over the Louis XIV chair he was sitting in.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, and shook his hair out like a dog, sending a spray of dirty water across the shiny surface of the Minister's desk, his rug, and Draco's face. It was, he thought, a vast improvement to the decor.  
  
"Oh, mature," Malfoy drawled, wiping the water off his face and giving him a pinched look. "I take it _you'll_ be explaining to the Minister why his letters have gone spotty?"  
  
"I'll say I saw you in the damp shirt and couldn't help myself," Harry drawled back (his drawl had improved; it was the sole benefit of being partners with Malfoy). "Suppose there's a market for semen-covered government documents?"  
  
"There's always a market for Malfoy semen," Draco said, shrugging a shoulder delicately, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. The cushion made a squelching noise, and he winced. "...Wait, are you implying that I'd ever _consider_ letting your no-doubt-virgin dick up my - "  
  
He was interrupted by Minister Weasley appearing in the office from behind a bookcase-door, and Draco gave Harry a freezing look as he settled back into his chair (there was another squelch). Harry cleared his throat, trying to conceal a laugh, and gave the Minister a winning smile as they both watched Percy glide to the other side of his desk and sit.  
  
"Wotcher, Perce," he said. "Nice carriage clock on the mantel. New?"  
  
"Mm. On sale at Harrod's," Percy nodded, looking a bit annoyed as he took the first letter off the pile of his desk and shook the water off of it. The Minister sighed and spelled the letter clean and dry again, and set it down. "Three-for-two deal with the lamps."  
  
"Fascinating. Lends a touch of elegance to the room, definitely," Harry said, practising the drawl again. ...He quite liked the drawl.  
  
"I'm very pleased you approve, especially as your people are known for their good taste in interior decorating," Percy said placidly, betraying only the tiniest of smiles as Draco was suddenly overcome by a coughing fit. He tilted his head and signed the letter, and began folding it into a complicated paper aeroplane. "My congratulations on your success in Scotland."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Draco piped up. Harry shot him an annoyed look, and somehow managed to look even more annoyed as Draco batted his eyelashes in return. Percy leaned back in his chair, and sent the aeroplane letter floating into the air, out the crack in the door, and down the hall.  
  
"I won't test your patience with further pleasantries," Percy started, ignoring Harry's murmur of _those were pleasant?_ "I need the two of you for a mission. Shacklebolt isn't aware of the nature of our meeting today, I'd greatly prefer it to stay that way."  
  
Harry blinked - he'd never heard of a mission Kingsley hadn't been prepped on before he delegated it to whomever he hated at the moment.  
  
"The Hogwarts ghosts have been sending odd reports. Books and trinkets going missing, and a bathroom was flooded a week ago, I won't bother showing you Mr. Filch's appraisal of the damage and his list of potential culprits," he said wryly, producing a huge scroll of parchment. "Apparently Peeves has been banished to a grandfather clock in the Headmaster's office for the whole of the summer, so it couldn't've been him, and there are no other poltergeists in the whole of England."  
  
"So there's a kleptomaniac house elf. Doesn't seem our line of expertise," Harry shrugged, settling back in his chair. "What d'you want us to do, interrogate the kitchen staff?"  
  
"If needs be. The titles of the books taken are the real cause for concern," Minister Weasley explained, and produced a small piece of paper, which he handed across the desk to Draco, who skimmed over it. Draco's eyes went wide.  
  
"Shit, you can't be serious."  
  
"Mm."  
  
Harry grabbed for the paper, and read over the titles confusedly. "...Am I missing something?"  
  
"Would you like us to write a list?" Draco muttered under his breath.  
  
Harry glared at him, and then glared at the list of books. "I was expecting something like 'Incredibly Dark Spells Volume Twelve', but all of these are standard for NEWT-level Muggle Studies. What's the problem?"  
  
Draco scoffed, and then reached over to snatch the list out of Harry's hands. "Shut up and let the grownups talk, Potty." He turned his attention back to the Minister. "A student or staff?"  
  
Percy's lips thinned. "Most likely staff. Easier to manoeuvre without detection. All of the regular staff are accounted for, however."  
  
"Mm. ...House elves?"  
  
Percy snorted. "Be serious."  
  
"I am, you should _see_ the one _he's_ got," Draco said, jerking his head towards Harry. Harry blinked, then kicked the leg of Draco's chair, aware that he'd been insulted but not exactly sure how.  
  
"Will someone please _explain_?" he asked, exasperated.  
  
"For God's sake," Draco said crossly. "There's an old legend that says that each of the books on the list contain one of the seven necessary steps for resurrection. No one's yet managed to find all of the steps or put them in the right order, but it means that someone's trying. And I doubt whoever it is, is wanting to bring back Celestina Warbeck."  
  
"...Wait, you can't just resurrect - "  
  
"That Muggle family of yours a pack of atheists, then?" Draco asked interestedly, making Harry go pink as he spluttered indignantly. "There's precedent." He glanced over at Percy. "I'll need a set of the books."  
  
"They'll be in your quarters."  
  
"And full access to the library and every room in the castle."  
  
"Already cleared. The Headmistress has been informed of the possibility of a threat, she'll be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary."  
  
Harry scowled, his eyebrows knitted together. "You're sending us to Hogwarts for a mission?"  
  
"No-oo." For the first time, Percy gave Harry a genuine smile. It was the most terrifying thing Harry had ever seen. "The two of you are handing in your resignation from the Auror Squad this afternoon, as it was proving too stressful an occupation, given your relationship. Headmistress McGonagall will be only too pleased to offer the both of you two recently-absented staff positions at Hogwarts for the new year."  
  
"Wait, what?" Harry gaped.  
  
"Which positions?" Draco asked swiftly.  
  
"Oh, I thought Charms, for you," Percy replied easily. Harry couldn't help noticing how Draco's cheeks went oddly _pink_ at that, and his scowl deepened. "Apparently Professor Flitwick's decided to take up Ancient Runes in the wake of Professor Vector's disappearance. ...And of course, Defence for Harry."  
  
"Hang on, our _relationship_? You're expecting us to quit and go to Hogwarts because there's a possibility someone's trying to resurrect Voldemort with a set of clues no one's ever been able to decipher, and you're expecting us to be _gay_ to do it?"  
  
"Of course not, Harry, don't be ridiculous."  
  
"...Good. Thought not. Yeah, it did sound completely ridic - "  
  
"I'm only expecting you to _pretend_ to be gay. ...But you do have to make the rest of the staff and the students believe it, or else your target will be alerted to your intentions and retreat back into obscurity. Which would, of course, mean the eventual return of Lord Voldemort and the destruction of our world as we know it."  
  
Harry blinked. Percy blinked back, and gave him a smile. "Good luck. Please, don't let me take any more of your time. I believe you have an appointment with Mr. Shacklebolt, he's expecting the two of you. Do try to break the news gently, it'll be quite a blow to his department."  
  
Harry reeled. "Now, wait just a min - "  
  
"Yes, of course, sir," Draco cut in smoothly as he stood. He offered a hand to Harry, who was distracted enough to take it. "...Thank you for being so understanding, you can see how poor Potter's suffered, torturing himself with the dangers of our present career." He clucked his tongue. "Heaven knows how he'd cope if something happened to me."  
  
Harry's glare could have cut glass. He applied it to Draco, Minister Weasley, the new carriage clock, and the room in general. "The huge party I'd give would only be to help along the grieving process. ...Also the indiscriminate sex," he grumbled, letting himself be turned towards the door and given a little shove by Draco. "...With _women_ ," he remembered to add.  
  
"Whatever gets you through the night, sweetcheeks," Draco drawled, smirking as he intentionally invaded Harry's personal space by putting a hand on his back as they walked out the door.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"Get your hand off my knee, Malfoy," Harry hissed, his teeth clenched tight in a rictus grin. Draco only raised an eyebrow and smirked in response, crossing his legs as he cooed over yet another album of photographs of Headmistress McGonagall's grand-niece Alberta.  
  
"You'd think a toddler wouldn't wear tartan so well, and yet," Draco smarmed, handing the album back.  
  
"Oh, I know," McGonagall sighed, beaming at the album as she stuffed it back in a desk drawer. Harry fought the urge to point out Alberta's more than passing resemblance to a set of bagpipes, and squeaked as Draco's fingertips whorled over his kneecap. "They grow up so fast."  
  
"Mm. How time flies. Don't you agree, pumpkin?" Distressingly sharp nails dug into his skin, and Harry jumped in his chair, and nodded frantically. "We were saying on the trip up, how it seems only yesterday that Harry and I were queueing up for our Sorting, and now - !"  
  
Harry couldn't let that lie pass. "Malf - _ow_ \- Dra - _OW_ \- for God's sake, stop _gouging holes_ me!" he hissed, attempting to dig Malfoy's claws out of his leg. Giving up his attempt to prise four fingernails out of the fabric of his trousers, Harry instead grabbed Draco's pinky and twisted viciously. He gave his old professor a smile, and didn't seem to notice how his partner had suddenly started whimpering. "We Apparated here."  
  
"It was a very short conversation," Draco gasped, whining as Harry twisted his finger further. Rallying, he quickly ground the heel of one very fussy little boot into Harry's toes, and in the next second the both of them were free, glaring at each other as they rubbed their latest injuries.  
  
On the other side of the desk, Headmistress McGonagall blinked. "Yes, well. I'll admit I had my reservations about your appointments, given your age and your...history, but I understand that that's all changed for the better now, is that correct?"  
  
Harry couldn't help rolling his eyes a bit. "Depends on your perspective."  
  
"We do get along _much_ better now," Draco purred, giving the Headmistress an indecently smug look, and if Harry hadn't known it to be physically impossible, he might've thought Malfoy had just made Minerva McGonagall _blush_.  
  
"I meant your history of teamwork as _Aurors_ , Mister Malfoy," she said severely.  
  
"Oh, that too."  
  
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, Prof - sorry, _Headmistress_ McGonagall, he swallowed a lot of sea water. Still not quite right. And our boss - our _old_ boss, I mean, was pretty broken up about seeing us go. It's been an emotional day."  
  
(This was, of course, a total lie: after his appointment as Head of the Auror Division, Kingsley Shacklebolt had somehow managed to trade in his compassion, sense of humour, and tact for increased efficiency in the workplace. The transcripts of their exit interview would have read something like this:  
  
_HARRY: We have to quit and we can't tell you why.  
  
KINGSLEY: Shame. Can't change your mind?  
  
HARRY: Easily. Make me an offer.  
  
DRACO: Potter, shut up. No, Kingsley, sorry. We'll always have Reykjavik.  
  
KINGSLEY: I liked Reykjavik. Good fishing, there.  
  
DRACO: Precisely. Focus on the good times.  
  
HARRY: ...Really. Kingsley. Anything. I'll take a paycut and I'll work longer hours, just tell me you can't let me go.  
  
DRACO: Well, _ that's _an embarrassingly transparent attempt to make me jealous, isn't it?  
  
KINGSLEY: ...Is this a gay thing?  
  
HARRY: No.  
  
DRACO: Yes. Very. Incredibly gay. Absolutely flaming.  
  
KINGSLEY: Hnh. Don't expect a wedding gift, we're already over budget.  
  
HARRY: ...Look, Kingsley, I'm begging you. Make me stay, or take my wand and AK me.  
  
KINGSLEY: Accidental deaths are too much paperwork. Good luck with the marriage, kids.  
  
DRACO: Thank you, Kings. You were my favourite supervisor.  
  
KINGSLEY: I was your only supervisor. Don't call me Kings._ )  
  
"Ah." McGonagall clucked her tongue, and gave them both a sympathetic look. "Yes, the waters of Loch Ness do tend to make one a bit queasy. Perhaps the two of you would like a lie-down before dinner?" she offered, tidying her desk.  
  
The sudden possibility of a bed (or even a flat surface to lie on) was absolutely irresistible to both men, and they gazed at her in wonder. "God, yes, _please_ ," Draco said, recovering first (despite all the sea water he'd supposedly drunk). "I feel like I haven't slept for a week."  
  
"We _haven't_ slept for a week," Harry reminded him. "...Because of _missions_ ," he added, scowling at the choking sound the Headmistress had just made. He stood and automatically offered a hand over to Draco (one of their first missions for the Auror Department had left Harry with a crisscrossing series of scars on his back, and Malfoy with vertigo), and tried to ignore the small, approving smile his former professor gave him.  
  
Draco, however, was canny enough to take the gesture and run with it - he gave Harry a calculating smile as he stood, and twined their fingers tight together, knuckles squeezing a little to make him play along. Harry gave a long-suffering sigh, and smiled tightly at McGonagall as she opened the door to her office and began leading them down the unfamiliar, winding corridors of the staff wing of the castle. After five minutes of left and right turns (beside him, Malfoy was beginning to look a bit green), Harry gave up and finally muttered a quick "Where the hell are we?" to his partner.  
  
"Hogwarts," Draco sniped, trying not to open his mouth too much, lest he succumb to his rising nausea.  
  
"Directly above the kitchens and opposite Ravenclaw Common Room," McGonagall answered from five feet in front of them. Harry blushed a bit, embarrassed at her having heard him swear. "The house elves had difficulty finding a suitable space for you, Hogwarts is...unused to the concept of partnered professors."  
  
Draco's quiet mutterings at that made Harry feel a lot better about having only said "hell" in front of McGonagall. She turned and gave Malfoy an unamused look worthy of Queen Victoria, and stopped in front of a door.  
  
"There's no need for such language, Mister Malfoy; your quarters match the specifications you gave the Minister perfectly." She opened the door with a spell, resetting it to a default. "Dinner is in an hour in the staff room, after which, a planning meeting. Punctuality is expected."  
  
If there was any hint of shackles on the walls, Harry thought, he was going to _murder_ Percy. Luckily, the Headmistress was offended enough by Malfoy's admittedly colourful profanity to turn and walk briskly down the corridor, leaving the two of them to push their way inside.  
  
Harry gaped again. Malfoy started swearing again.  
  
" - a dramatic fucking re-imagining of _Julius Caesar_ with a standing ovation at the end, I will wear a _toga_ and _strappy sandals_ and kill him on the _steps of the Ministry building_ on _March the fucking fifteenth_ , this is _beyond every pale there is_."  
  
"...And you'd know, being a Malfoy and all," Harry couldn't help adding. Malfoy turned and glared at him balefully, if woozily.  
  
"I get the bed, Potter. You're sleeping on the sofa. _Forever_."  
  
Harry smirked and started toeing off his shoes, heading towards the bathroom door at the opposite corner of the room. "Now, sweetheart, don't go to bed angry," he said, shucking his heavy work-robes off as he walked. He'd barely managed to close the door behind him before there was a colossal _thunk_ , most likely from one of his shoes being hurled against it. He whistled cheerfully as he went to the bathtub and turned on the tap.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Draco stared at the oily, glistening platter of sausages in front of his plate, and swallowed, looking a little green. Beside him, Harry was nursing a mug of coffee (deceptively black, loaded with half a dozen sugars) with his eyes closed. The Great Hall was disturbingly quiet what with only the staff table at the front of the huge room occupied - there were the clinks of spoons in teacups, forks on plates, quiet conversation. Above them all, the ceiling showed a grey, overcast sky.  
  
There was a pointed cough to his right, and Draco glanced over - Professor Sinistra was giving Potter a curious look, holding a pitcher of pumpkin juice expectantly, waiting for Harry to take it. Harry was either dozing or ignoring her, his fingers unsteady around his mug, and Draco sighed. He reached over and took the pitcher, accidentally spilling a little on the tablecloth, and passed it to Professor Sprout. "Don't see why _you're_ tired, you weren't the one who had to spend half the night studying Leviticus."  
  
Harry's eyes didn't open, though he did smile faintly. "Heard that that one has a few interesting things to say about witches," he muttered, lips still pressed against the lip of the mug.  
  
Draco snorted. "It has interesting things to say about _everyone_ ," he shrugged, reaching to take a basket of scones and pass it along as well. "Even prawns." The scones had shone with butter as well (everything at Hogwarts was designed to kill you, Draco was perfectly certain - even the food), and so Malfoy scowled down at his empty plate for a bit, before filching an inoffensive-looking piece of toast from Professor Sprout's plate. He spread marmalade on a corner of it and tried to keep his voice casual. "...Nightmares again?"  
  
"Mm." Harry's eyelids twitched, purple-veined and delicate looking, his eyelashes in danger of brushing the lenses of his glasses. "Yours too." Draco flushed pink and cleared his throat, taking a bite off of the corner of his toast. Potter had tried to explain once, during a longer-than-usual stay in St. Mungo's after one of their missions - he'd woken Draco with his screams one night and had babbled something about his final confrontation with the Dark Lord, a crack in his brain that the Healers hadn't been able to _Heal_ , only halfway repair. Occasional memories that weren't his own.  
  
"You should rest, after breakfast," Draco decided, setting his toast down and taking a leisurely sip of tea. "Take the bed."  
  
"M'fine, I'll just - "  
  
"Potter," Draco interrupted, firm. "Don't pretend to be _noble_ , it's only a schedule meeting. I'll make up something if McGonagall asks." He shrugged a bony shoulder. "We both know you're useless if you don't get your beauty sleep, and frankly, you look like shit."  
  
Harry shifted and muttered something about being emotionally abused, which only strengthened Draco's resolve since if Potter were at all in control of his faculties, he'd've managed at least five minutes of that injured air he liked to take when Draco was honest with him. "Go on," Draco nagged. "Or I'll embarrass you by walking with you and making you lean on me."  
  
"...Tell McGonagall I want Friday afternoons off for lesson planning."  
  
Draco snorted. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually a miracle-worker. No promises. Now, goodnight," he said, reaching up and plucking the coffee mug out of Harry's hands. Potter opened his eyes at that, and gave him a sidelong sheepish look.  
  
"You didn't sleep much either."  
  
Draco arched an eyebrow, took another bite of toast. "I'm already gorgeous enough, I don't need sleep for it." He tilted his chin, giving Harry a challenging look. "Unless that was a subpar Gryffindor attempt at subtlety and you're just trying to get me into bed," he smirked.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, and stood unsteadily. "Goodnight, Malfoy."  
  
"I'll come and wake you for lunch." Draco chomped down on the last corner of toast. Harry shrugged and stooped to give the top of his head a kiss (Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra had been watching them), and limped off, leaving Malfoy choking on breadcrumbs.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"MALFOY," Harry thundered, stomping into the staffroom, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO OUR ROOMS." Draco glanced up from the Qu'ran he was reading, and gave Harry a bored look. There was a cough from an overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, and Harry glared over at it til Professor Flitwick clucked his tongue and headed towards the door, a stack of scrolls in hand.  
  
"I haven't done a thing to our rooms, Potter," Draco replied.  
  
"Like _fuck_ you haven't, everything's gone green and silver and tacky, it's like stepping into Bellatrix Lestrange's walk-in _closet_ in there."  
  
"Ah, and there's to be no more living in closets for you, is that it? Admirable," Malfoy quipped, turning a page, unconcerned. He did happen to glance up then, however, and the look of constipated rage on Harry's face was obviously familiar to him because he added hastily "I might have made a few suggestions about giving us a proper living space, I wasn't going to spend the next nine months in that moth-eaten attempt at Victoriana."  
  
Harry recognised the sideways answer when he heard it, and scowled deeply. "Who did it, then? Percy? Did the two of you have fun looking at swatches of _fabric_ together?"  
  
"Jealousy doesn't become you, darling." Draco watched with amusement as Harry's chest puffed with rage. "And shut up, of course it wasn't him, it was that elf-thing of yours."  
  
Harry deflated. "Right. KREACHER," he bellowed, folding his arms in the few seconds it took before the house elf Apparated into the room, followed closely by Dobby. Kreacher (who somehow managed to look more wizened than Pince and Filch combined) glowered at his master, and Dobby glowered at Kreacher. "What the hell did you think you were doing, redecorating my rooms like that?"  
  
"Dobby told him, Harry Potter sir! Dobby was telling Kreacher that Harry Potter would not want those colours!" Dobby piped up, wringing his hands as he gazed up at Harry, his bulging eyes rapidly filling with tears.  
  
"It's not your fault, Dobby," Harry said hastily.  
  
"Of course it is," Draco shot, from across the room. "Dobby, you should be ashamed at letting him down." Dobby squeaked, and immediately stomped on his own toes, and made matters worse for himself by wailing at the pain and hopping one-footed in a small circle on the carpet til he fell.  
  
"For God's sake, Malfoy," Harry growled. "Dobby, stop, he's not your master anymore."  
  
"They are _fun_ , aren't they?" Draco said, smiling happily as he watched Dobby whimper and rock back and forth on the floor. "I missed that one tremendously after Father sent him away."  
  
"Merlin. What were you doing ordering around my house elf anyway? He's not supposed to listen to you," Harry grumbled.  
  
"Draco Malfoy said to Kreacher to make his and my Master's rooms befitting the last member of the House of Black. Draco Malfoy is a good pureblood, and proper," Kreacher muttered, mainly to himself. "Kreacher is glad to have a master with _taste_ ," he added viciously, giving Harry a malevolent look.  
  
"Yeah? Well, _he's_ not your master. Only me," Harry spat. "And I say get rid of all of it and put it back the way it was."  
  
Kreacher's eyes bugged in horror. "The lovely drapes and sconces that belonged to my Mistress? The tapestries? The satin sh - "  
  
"Ah, no, keep the bedsheets," Draco cut in again, attempting to look innocent when Harry whipped around to glare at him. "What? Those cotton sheets were horrible, it was like trying to sleep on parchment."  
  
"Draco Malfoy is a _good_ master, a true Black, with an aristocratic bearing - "  
  
"SHUT UP, KREACHER," Harry shouted again, not turning around. Kreacher dutifully kicked himself in the shins and fell over, muttering the whole time. "You can't be serious. You can't expect me to sleep on bloody _satin sheets_ just because you're the Princess with the Pea."  
  
"Certainly I can. And what makes you think you'll be sleeping on them, anyway? Just because _you_ were raised a commoner doesn't mean I should suffer for the duration of our time together. Though it does seem a foregone conclusion," Draco sniffed. "I want those sheets. ...And the sconces, my mother had a set too, they were in our study. And we're getting rid of that awful settee."  
  
"Oi, I like that settee!" Harry protested.  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Ugh, you would. Fine, the settee can stay, but only if one of the tapestries stays."  
  
"Well, not the one with the depiction of those goblin rebellions, that was just disgusting."  
  
Draco paused, then nodded. "Agreed."  
  
"Well...fine. And Kreacher, just because Malfoy and I are sharing rooms doesn't mean he's your Master too. You only do what I say from now on." Harry and Kreacher exchanged death glares. "Go back to the kitchens." The elf Disapparated in the next second. "Dobby, you can go too."  
  
"Bring me a new pot of tea when you're finished punishing yourself, would you?" Draco called from near the fireplace. "Earl Grey, not that Darjeeling shit. No milk and two sugars and I don't want it in teabags, only loose leaves."  
  
"What?" Harry gave Draco a disgusted look. "Dobby, you don't need to bring him anything, he can go and get it himself." Dobby was caught between them, his gaze bouncing back and forth like a tennis ball on a court.  
  
Draco gave Harry a glare that somehow forcefully reminded him of Kreacher. "Dobby," Draco said kindly, changing tactics wildly, "Harry won't admit this, but _he's_ the one who really wants the tea, he's just too noble and good to ask for it himself. You'll get it, though, won't you?"  
  
Dobby nodded, mouth slightly open at the prospect of Malfoy doing _anything_ kindly, before he Disapparated as well.  
  
"...Well, I hope you're proud of yourself," was the only thing Harry could come up with to say.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"So...resurrection, eh?"  
  
"Mm." Draco flipped to another page of the _Bhagavad Gita_ he'd been studying, and highlighted a couple of sentences with his luminescent quill. Harry rather wished it was a library book, just so he could see the look on Madam Pince's face when it was returned to her.  
  
"How's it going? Got your lesson plans done? First day tomorrow and all."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"Thought the Sorting went all right. Good crop of Gryffindors this year."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"The third years'll like starting off with kappas, won't they? ...I liked kappas. Fun. Easy to locate. And the dispelling charm is all right for their skill level, right?"  
  
"Mm."  
  
"I mean I don't think it's wise throwing them in with a boggart or anything just yet, most of them remember the war. And the professor last term was a joke, I need to get them to swot up a bit before we do anything really heavy."  
  
"Mm."  
  
Harry paused, and then realised he was pouting. Sucking his lower lip back in, he maintained a chilly silence for almost a minute. "...You do think they're ready for kappas, though."  
  
"Potter, stop hogging the blanket, it's freezing in here."  
  
Harry huffed and folded his arms. "Maybe it wouldn't be if we had cotton sheets. And I will if you'll stop putting your feet on my legs, they're like ice."  
  
"Don't start with me, we have a busy day tomorrow and I need to finish this bit before I lose my train of thought."  
  
"Fine." Pouting again, Harry shuffled down against his pillow and turned to switch off his bedside lamp. Behind him, he heard Malfoy turn another page. A few minutes later, the other lamp was turned off as well, and he felt Draco burrow down into the blankets on the other side of the mattress.  
  
"...Yes, I do think they'll be all right with kappas," Malfoy said, half-muffled in his pillow.  
  
Relieved despite himself, Harry closed his eyes.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Despite Madam Pince's strident efforts, the library was markedly louder once the students had arrived than it was in the summer. The effect of pages turning, quiet conversation meant a low-grade hum of background noise, enough to keep Draco concentrating on the pages in front of him. He rather hated real _silence_ ; it reminded him of the eighteen months he'd spent with Snape, on the run. They'd been afraid to talk, afraid of who might be listening.  
  
Lulled by the whispers swirling round him into something akin to contentment, he sighed and settled against the side of his carrel, smirking at a particularly ridiculous paragraph of the book Percy'd sent him. He suspected it of being a very subtle joke on the Minister's part.  
  
"Malfoy," an urgent voice hissed. Draco glanced to his right, and rolled his eyes when he saw Potter advancing towards him.  
  
"Hello, Potty," he murmured, twisting in his chair to face him, propping his chin on his hand. "Are you lost? This isn't the kitchens, this is what we call a _li-brar-ee_."  
  
"Do me a favour and don't be yourself, for a moment, I'm not in the mood. I'm _not_ grading your third years' essays again this week and Flitwick's been harassing me about them because his Ravenclaws are harassing him. You _know_ how they are with their marks, just _read_ the fucking things," Harry spat, earning himself a pointed glare from Madam Pince.  
  
Draco huffed and tugged his book closer to his chest, letting his eyes drop back to it. "When did students get so irritating? I'll get them done, and if Flitwick is having such a problem with his students running roughshod over him about my lessons, perhaps he should talk to _me_."  
  
"He said he's tried but you always mistake him for a house elf and ask for tea!"  
  
Draco couldn't help it, he broke into a grin. "He does get so red. ...And do you know, the first time I did it, he _brought_ me a cup?" He flipped a page in the book, and started sniggering at the title of the next chapter. "Oh, my god," he murmured, his voice containing no little amount of glee, "Muggles are _so weird_."  
  
Momentarily distracted, Harry approached the carrel and tilted the back cover of the book up to read its spine. "...You're bloody joking, you're reading _Dianetics_? Malfoy, the only people who believe that's a religious text think volcanos house aliens, come on. Do your fucking job."  
  
"I _am_ doing my job," Draco said, stung. Two spots of colour sprang high on his cheeks as he closed the offending book, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. "You haven't asked me _once_ how things are going with" - he dropped his voice to a lower hiss - "the _real reason_ we're here, and I'll have you know I've found _three_ of the steps already. It's because of stupid... _essays_ and lectures that we're still stuck in this bloody castle, and because you won't stop _bothering me -_ "  
  
A very loud cough directly behind Harry made them both jump half out of their skin. Harry turned and shrank under the icy glare that Madam Pince was giving them both, taking half a step back, behind Draco's chair. Draco's eyes had gone wide.  
  
" _How. DARE. You,_ " she hissed, melodramatically. "This is a _library_. A hallowed place of _learning_ , and the two of you are _staff._ You should be _setting an example_ to your students, not...engaging in some sort of lovers' _spat_ , there is _no place_ for it here. Never in all my life have..." she trailed off, mouth pinching up like she'd been sucking lemons. "You will kindly _refrain_ from broadcasting your own vulgar personal problems to our impressionable youth or I will have you - "  
  
"What, drink hemlock?" Draco snapped, his regular speaking voice carrying long in the quiet of the room. "Thrown in Reading Gaol?"  
  
"Malfoy," Harry murmured, cautioning. He laid a hand on Draco's shoulder, which was promptly shrugged off as Malfoy stood. He watched, horrified and perversely delighted, as Draco closed the two steps between him and the librarian and loomed over her menacingly.  
  
"Do you know, I believe you're the first person in the world, Irma, who has ever dared to call a Malfoy vulgar to his face. And if my _vulgar_ personal problems are indeed _vulgar_ because I discuss them with Potter there - even though you have _no idea_ what we were discussing and we might well have been saying that it looks like rain, or that the asparagus at lunch was a bit overcooked, or that your glorified house-elf of a _boy_ friend has been diddling his own _cat_ for years - then I suppose you'd only be an authority on _vulgar_ matters because of a close personal acquaintance with them, wouldn't you?"  
  
Around them, Harry could see various students gaping, trying to work out just _what_ Professor Malfoy had said to Pince. Not one of them was paying attention to his books. Madam Pince opened and closed her mouth, looking like nothing so much as a goldfish.  
  
Harry had to stifle a sudden wild shriek of laughter, and he quickly grabbed the stack of books at Malfoy's desk and Malfoy's elbow, and hauled him out of the study space and into the merciful obscurity of the bookshelves. "You've gone mental," he said over his shoulder, trying to ignore the way Draco was _giggling_.  
  
"Possibly. Fuck, but that felt good, I've wanted to tell that bitch off for _years_ ," he said, trying to jog his elbow out of Harry's grasp as they rounded another corner and started down another row of books. "Oh, stoppit, Potter, she's not going to come after me with a letter-opener, let _go._ " Harry ignored him and headed recklessly further down the rows, not pausing even though he noticed the books getting older and thicker and dustier. "Potter," Draco whined, " _stopppp_ , it's making me feel dizzy. ...Ugh, you know, she never bloody let me into the Restricted Section, said I'd had to have forged my professors' notes."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow and stopped, turning around to regard him interestedly. "Had you?"  
  
"Well, of course," Draco scoffed, insulted, looking at Harry like _he_ was mental. "But she didn't _know_ that; I was brilliant at Snape's signature. Do you know, I got out of nearly three months' worth of Divination lessons during third year, because I kept writing notes from Sev - Professor Snape to Professor Trelawney claiming that my third eye had astigmatism and my readings weren't to be trusted?"  
  
"You did not," Harry said, breaking into quiet laughter, his hand still wrapped around Draco's arm. Laughing quietly too, Draco winced and leaned back against the nearest bookshelf while he waited to regain his sense of balance.  
  
"I did. ...Probably would've got away with the whole year, had that old bat not _asked_ Professor Snape about how my _healing_ was progressing, at a staff meeting," he sighed, smiling crookedly at the memory. Harry winced.  
  
"Can't imagine he took it well."  
  
"...Actually, he wasn't as bad as I expected. Mind, I thought he'd explode. ...And then write to my parents, who'd also explode. And then explode _me_. ...But he didn't, he just snorted and told me to ask first before putting his signature on something. And to come up with a better story than that third-eye bollocks, he said that was a ridiculous 'tell' in itself."  
  
A few seconds later, Harry realised his mouth was hanging open. "Really?"  
  
"Oh, yes. Said he couldn't stand Divination either, when he was a student," Draco nodded, his eyes losing a bit of their focus. "Though he was cleverer about it, he came up with some potion that made him faint like clockwork, ten minutes into each lesson if he timed it right." Smile going a little pensive, Malfoy dropped his eyes to the floor, shifted his shoulders against the bookshelves more comfortably. "He said he blamed it on the _altitude_ of the classroom."  
  
"...Yeah, that's much better than your plot," Harry agreed after a moment. Without examining why, he transferred the hand on Malfoy's arm to his shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Though both of you were idiots, frankly." He grinned as Draco's gaze suddenly snapped up, back on him. "Hermione got thrown out of Divination for good, halfway through our third year, and all she had to do was tell Trelawney she thought it was a load of shit. ...In so many words."  
  
It was Draco's turn to gape. " _Granger_ did that?"  
  
"Yup," Harry grinned, absurdly proud of his friends. "We thought she'd lost her mind."  
  
"Huh. ...Damn, that had never occurred to me," Draco sighed, leaning his head back against the spines of a few medieval spell indices.  
  
"Gryffindor forthrightness does have its benefits." Harry squeezed his shoulder again, and shifted the weight of the books in his other arm, leaning them against the bookshelf as well.  
  
"Does it," Draco said, sounding amused. "I suppose. Though I'm tempted to use the old 'even a blind niffler finds a knut every now and then' adage."  
  
Harry snorted his laughter, rested his hip on the bookshelf as well. "Budge up, Malfoy, these books are killing my arm."  
  
"Oh - sorry, here," Draco said, shifting to help him move the books to a gap in one of the lower shelves. "Better?"  
  
"Yeah, I suppose. My arm's not so numb, anyway."  
  
"Sounds like a vulgar personal problem to me, Scarhead," Draco said, smiling faintly, and he tilted his head. Harry blinked, sucking in a quick breath as he noticed for the first time that one of Draco's front teeth was very faintly chipped. What was odd about that was not that he'd _noticed_ , but that he suddenly and very desperately _needed_ to know how it had happened - if it had been during a Quidditch match or the fight at the end of sixth year or, incomprehensibly, something not to do with Harry at all.  
  
The space around and between them had twisted, somehow, in the last few minutes of conversation - indefinable and undoubtedly skewed as they both leant against the bookshelf, Draco still a bit dizzy and Harry not exactly stable himself. "...Yeah," Harry muttered, a handful of seconds too late to be effective. "Yeah, I'd say."  
  
"...Well," Draco murmured a moment later, gazing at the floor again, colour high. He cleared his throat.  
  
"You miss him, then?" Harry asked, not really sure what he was asking, but needing to anyway. Draco lifted his gaze (he didn't need to lift it much, because damn him, Draco was three inches _taller_ than Harry), and fixed his partner with a dry Look.  
  
"Like the deserts miss the rain, Potter," he drawled, smirking as he watched Harry flush and hit his shoulder.  
  
"You're such an arsehole," Harry grumped, knocked out of his nervousness by the familiarity of that drawl. "Do me a favour and shut up, for a moment," he murmured, and was incredibly gratified to see Draco tilting towards him, a little, and that the fingertips suddenly on his waist seemed cold and tentative.  
  
"All right, sweetpea." The breath of Draco's words hit Harry's mouth at the same time as his brain, and the twin smirks that it produced meant that once the two men stopped dallying and actually _kissed_ , they nearly knocked their teeth together.  
  
"...Fuck," Harry whimpered a minute later, as he was pressed back into the bookshelf. The word was muffled - not only by Malfoy's mouth, but by his lower lip, which was currently in _Harry's_ mouth and in danger of becoming bruised.  
  
Draco groaned, and pressed Harry harder into the bookcase as he ravaged his mouth, sniggering at the protesting squeak that produced a moment later. "Sorry, pumpkin, m'such a _brute_ ," he murmured, breaking into another quick grin as Harry kicked his shin in retaliation.  
  
"Shut up," Harry muttered, flushed. "Bloody...I'm not gay," he added a minute later.  
  
"Of course not," Draco said solemnly, and tilted his head to explore the uncharted territory of Harry's neck. "Entirely heterosexual."  
  
"Entirely - fuck, _there_ ," Harry gasped, his knees buckling. "I mean it, I like girls."  
  
"Mmm, yes, girls are nice," Draco agreed, and licked at Potter's pulsepoint, perversely delighted at Harry's stifled groan. He felt his eyes sliding closed despite his best efforts, and sighed. "Tits, long hair, et cetera. Lipstick on one's collar."  
  
"...God, Malfoy, y - _shit_ yes, bite - you don't actually get people who _respond_ to this act of yours, do you?" Harry sniped, eyes rolling back in his head at a particularly vicious suck. "Bloody social graces of a hyena," he gasped, fisting a handful of blonde hair ungently, startled at the shiver that went through Draco at that.  
  
"Oh, and next you'll be saying that that's your wand in your pocket," Malfoy retorted.  
  
"Actually, that _is_ my wand in my pocket," Harry said, after a sheepish pause.  
  
Malfoy blinked, then did something interesting to Harry's ear. "Oh good, for a moment I was afraid I'd underestimated you." He squawked as Harry tugged his hair in response. "Stop abusing me, Potty, you'll give me a bald spot."  
  
"Shut up and do that licking thing again, you _girl_ ," Harry hissed, giving his hair another tug as he tried to pull him back down to his neck. He squirmed as Malfoy began to snicker - it was _tickling_ him oddly.  
  
"Pumpkin, what have we said about projecting?" he heard Draco retort a second later, and Harry rolled his eyes until he had to close them, whimpering at a sharp bite. "...You've been using my aftershave," Malfoy groused a few seconds later, slicking a broad stripe of tongue up the side of Harry's neck, to confirm. "My _mother_ bought me that aftershave, it was made specially for me for my sixteenth birthday."  
  
Irritated, Harry tried to press closer. "Bit overfamiliar for a present from your mum, isn't it? Did she pick out your underwear for you too? And tell you which of the Slytherin pussy-posse would make the best wives?" He let out a frustrated exhale as he felt Malfoy's shoulders and back tense at that.  
  
"Don't talk about my mother," came the short answer, Malfoy's cold voice gone colder. Harry was perplexed by a sudden, fleeting feeling of guilt as he remembered reading about Narcissa Malfoy's doomed role in the second attempted breakout of Azkaban. ...It hadn't worked, Lucius had had to stay for another six months before he was let out for good behaviour. He'd watched Narcissa's burial in the Azkaban cemetery from his cell window, since all Malfoy family lands and assets had been seized by the Ministry.  
  
Draco hadn't been allowed to attend. The Order had determined it a security risk; not enough was known about Malfoy's real allegiances since Snape had dropped him off at Grimmauld Place and vanished.  
  
"...Sorry," he murmured, and relaxed his fingers in Malfoy's hair, twisting them gently, almost stroking. "Sometimes I forget."  
  
"Lucky you." Draco muttered a moment later, pulling away just enough so that they could actually _look_ at each other. His grey eyes were harsh and shining. "Even _you_ didn't lose _everything_."  
  
Something in his chest twisting ( _always been too bloody compassionate_ ), Harry just nodded and tugged Malfoy forward, so that their foreheads were barely touching, the ridge of Harry's glasses bumping against Draco's nose. His hand had drifted down to the short, soft hairs on the nape of Malfoy's neck and it stayed there, fingers smoothing them over. "Well," Harry murmured, tilting his chin just enough to touch their cheeks together, "I don't know. ...You still had your looks."  
  
Draco blinked, shocked, as Harry pulled away and gave him a crooked smile, raising his eyebrows. "...Insane," he finally decided, a small smile spreading on his own lips since Harry's, it seemed, was contagious. "You're completely fucking insane. You, Potter, are a lunatic and you should be locked away."  
  
"You know you like it," Harry smirked, and craned up, deciding to do a bit of exploring of his own. There was a shadow under Malfoy's jaw that looked like it needed investigating.  
  
"No, no. I'm terrified," Malfoy said, warming to his theme, as he slid both arms tighter around Harry's middle, tugging him in closer. "I'm genuinely afraid for my - ooh, just there - life, given your wildly erratic behaviour," he teased. "You abuse me emotionally and call me a girl and then molest me in the" - he glanced up, taking in a few titles from the books surrounding them - "...the _Mermish History_ section of the - _ow_ , stop _gnawing_ on me - library. You're a mmmm _oh_ , a menace to society."  
  
"Love it when you talk dirty," Harry replied cheerfully, licking down a muscle in Draco's neck until he happened upon a spot that made him yelp interestingly, and grab onto Harry's hips for support. "There?" he asked, already knowing the answer, not lifting his mouth from Malfoy's skin.  
  
"Oh fuck," Draco gasped, his head tilting back, eyes closed. "God, Potter, stay there for eternity."  
  
"Teaching might be an issue," Harry pointed out, lisping since he still hadn't removed his mouth from the side of Malfoy's neck. He sucked interestedly, and grinned at the way Draco clutched at him.  
  
"I'll do your lectures."  
  
"...And meals," Harry added, thinking about the logistics of the idea more than was warranted.  
  
"We'll get you a feeding tube."  
  
"And there's taking a piss," Harry observed, eyes sliding lazily shut as well. He grazed his teeth along Draco's flushed skin, curious.  
  
"Ohhh _hhh_ ," Malfoy whined, sliding a hand down to Harry's arse and grabbing a handful to tug him in, his crotch suddenly pressed directly against Draco's, making them both gasp. "Potter, I _promise_ , if you just shut up and _keep doing that_ I will take it and aim it _wherever you want_."  
  
"...D-dobby was sent by Headmistress McGonagall to find Harry Potter," came a querulous voice from behind them. Draco promptly displayed the discipline of several months of Auror Training by shrieking and trying to climb both Harry and the bookshelf behind him, with limited success. He then whipped his head around, glaring at the cowering house elf four feet away in the corridor.  
  
"He's _busy_. Go away," Malfoy said imperiously, before being shoved away by Harry, who'd been unable to breathe while Draco had been trying to climb him like a tree. Dobby sniffed and turned his long nose up at his former master, and gave Harry an _et tu, Brute_ sort of look.  
  
"What did Headmistress McGonagall want, Dobby?" Harry asked gamely, flushing as he tried to rearrange his robes to cover both the bruises on his neck and the prominent bulge in the front of his trousers.  
  
"Dobby does not know, Dobby was only sent to find Harry Potter." There was a pause, and Harry blinked, almost certain that he'd just seen a house elf _smirk_. "Dobby can tell her that Harry Potter is busy researching vampires with Professor Malfoy...?"  
  
"Ooh, _yes_ ," Draco said, at the same time as Harry's firm "No." Both of them glared at each other.  
  
"It might be important," Harry reasoned.  
  
"And it _might_ be that another shipment of photos of tartan-clad toddlers and stale gingersnaps has just arrived, Potter, _take the chance_ ," Draco snapped back.  
  
Harry blinked at him, then over at Dobby, then back. He sighed and made his decision, and then slid an arm around Draco's waist, hoisting him away from where he was still clawed into the bookshelves. "You still have four steps to find," he murmured quietly, hoping it was quiet enough that Dobby wouldn't be able to hear. "That's at least a couple more weeks of being here."  
  
Draco stilled, raising an eyebrow as he considered the idea. "Hm. ...Augusta Longbottom's been after me to help with her remedial potions tutoring, that might stretch it some more," he muttered back, nestling in. Harry shivered as a few blonde wisps of hair fell onto his cheek.  
  
"Good boy," he smirked, provokingly, kissing Draco's cheek. "Might as well get _some_ fun out of all this, right?"  
  
"I doubt you'll be able to deliver it, but I'm willing to take the chance, I suppose."  
  
"That's very kind of you, sweetums."  
  
"I know. I'm the soul of charity," Malfoy sighed, then turned and gestured to Dobby. "Lay on, Macduff." ...He sighed again, when both Harry and Dobby gave him blank looks. "It means _go_."

 

 

"Oh, my _God_ ," Harry whined as he limped over to the bed in his pyjamas and crawled underneath the blankets, automatically curling up into a foetal-positioned lump. "Kids are idiots. And I'm never covering one of Hooch's flying lessons _again_."  
  
"Poor Potty, what did the mean Hufflepuffs say to you?" Draco drawled, not looking up from the blue-covered _Book of Mormon_ in his hands. He turned a page, one eyebrow raising. "Did Janie and Jennifer get their periods while you still haven't?"  
  
Snickering despite his exhaustion, Harry tugged his pillow down to hug. "Shut up."  
  
"Now, precious, you know that every girl develops in her own time. What if during the next Hogsmeade Weekend we go and buy you a training bra and some chocolates, would that cheer you up?"  
  
"Perve."  
  
Draco gave him a sidelong glance and a smirk. "Hm." He turned a page, and went back to reading it. "How's your headache?"  
  
"Better. Thanks for the Pepper-Up."  
  
"You owe me three Sickles," Draco said kindly.  
  
"Stingy bastard. ...What're you reading?" Harry asked, trying not to call attention to his sudden blush as he scooted up the bed, close enough to peer over Malfoy's shoulder. "Ooh, it has _pictures_. God, look at the rack on that lady," he gawped, boggling at the bold-coloured illustrations.  
  
"Mm, quite an emphasis on bulging muscles and loincloths as well," Draco said drily, shifting on the bed, dropping his shoulder so Harry could see more easily. "Oh, you _have_ to see this one," he said, flipping to the appropriate page, giggling as Harry let out a low whistle. "Who knew that Native American Jews who wrote in 'reformed Egyptian' and wore Roman centurion outfits could be so fit, eh?"  
  
"I like the big shiny sword pointing between his legs. "  
  
"...Perve."  
  
"Mhm," Harry smirked, and yawned again, his jaw cracking. "Mmph, sorry."  
  
"As you should be," Draco murmured, placing a bookmark on the chapter he was reading before he closed the book altogether. "Americans," he sighed, in a very 'what-can-you-do?' way. "And Muggleborns say _our_ history is hard to believe."  
  
"Well, any religion's history is going to be a bit weird, isn't it?" Harry reasoned, burrowing down into the covers as Draco fluffed his own pillow fussily. "The world getting flooded, oil lasting for eight days, loaves and fishes feeding thousands."  
  
"The last two we could do ourselves," Draco pointed out.  
  
"I _know_ , but _Muggles_ don't know that." Harry frowned and closed his eyes, a hand sliding automatically into Draco's hair as Malfoy slung an arm across his chest. "How many steps done?"  
  
"Five. Found the one in the _Vedas_ this morning," Draco sighed. "Also I found your Arrows shirt, it's in the wardrobe with your others."  
  
"Thanks. Still want me to show your NEWTs students the Protean charm tomorrow?"  
  
"Mm, if you would," Malfoy yawned, tracing the faded outline of the Cannons logo on Harry's t-shirt. "I think the scriptural comic book there was another joke from Percy."  
  
"No, really?" Harry said drily.  
  
"Mm. I'm still looking for the one in the Old Testament. It's in either Psalms or Isaiah, they have the strongest magical signature."  
  
"Aha. ...Who wrote Psalms? Aren't they just songs?"  
  
"King David wrote about half," Draco murmured sleepily, turning his face into Harry's chest. Harry could feel him break into a smile, a second later. "When he wasn't committing adultery and having his mistresses' husbands killed. And mourning his boyfriend."  
  
Had they been open, Harry would have rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's gay," he said, chest hitching on another yawn.  
  
"No I don't," Draco protested, eyelids fluttering a little as his words began to slur with sleep. "David was, though. At least a little. ...Jonathan." He gestured with a hand, looping it drunkenly til Harry grabbed it and tucked it in his own. "Soldier boy who got himself killed, 'thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women'? Please. _Gaaaaaaay_."  
  
"Mhm. Goodnight, Malfoy." He kissed the top of the blonde head resting on his shoulder, spluttering a little as strands of hair got in his mouth.  
  
"'Night, Potty."  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Harry groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, overcome.  
  
"Nervous, Potter?" Draco breathed into his ear, darting his tongue out to lick over the flushed-pink shell. "You should be."  
  
"Oh, god, stop teasing - it's bad enough already."  
  
"Mhmmm, and it's only going to get _worse_."  
  
Harry opened his eyes again, at that. "Fuck," he hissed painfully, a moment later.  
  
Draco bit his lip, and nodded.  
  
Harry whimpered.  
  
"Not going to be long now," Draco muttered after a few minutes.  
  
"No - nonono _no_ just - oh, _shit_ almost - "  
  
"Yes, _yesssss_ \- "  
  
Harry tensed and shouted, at the same time Draco did. A moment later, Draco slumped back, smirking hugely at Harry's groan.  
  
"Shut up," Harry said preemptively, squeezing farther back into his seat so that Professors Sprout and Longbottom could shuffle past, out of the staff Quidditch box. "It was a lucky play."  
  
"Of course," Draco said, still smirking as he stood to let the professors past him. "Entirely due to luck, that final 300 point spread. Tell me, Potter, did the Gryffindor team even _have_ Chasers on the field after the first hour, or did they all just give up after the first twenty goals we scored?"  
  
"Shut _up_."  
  
"All right." Draco subsided as he sat back down and whistled cheerfully. It took Harry a few minutes before he recognised the tune of "Weasley Is Our King."  
  
"MALFOY," he shouted. "Could you _not_?"  
  
"Actually, I think I'm being very good about not gloating too much over how my house just trounced yours," Draco replied evenly. They were the only two members of staff left in the box, and indeed in the stands, and a brisk October wind was whipping their old house scarves around their shoulders. After a moment, Draco stretched and rested an arm across the back of Harry's seat.  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then sighed and settled back against him, tucking his head halfway under Malfoy's chin, tracing a fingertip in whorls over his chest. "...We weren't... _really_ serious about that bet beforehand, were we?"  
  
Draco snorted. "Nice try, Potter. We were serious, and you _will_ be wearing Slytherin colours for the next two weeks, so stop embarrassing yourself."  
  
Harry scowled at that (and at having been seen through so easily), and gave Draco's nipple a vicious twist, through his clothes.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"Should we be having sex?" Harry mused aloud, circling yet another mistake in little Danny Cleaver's werewolf essay (he was having Lupin and Bill Weasley come for a guest lecture on the new Werewolf Rights Act after the next full moon). From the other side of the desk, Draco paused in his reading to give him a curious look.  
  
"Well, I _am_ in the middle of a sentence, but I suppose could fit you in sometime this afternoon if it's urgent."  
  
Harry sniggered at the unintentional pun and glanced up. "I didn't mean _now_ , git."  
  
"Ah. ...It wouldn't be very heterosexual of us," Draco pointed out helpfully.  
  
"I know, but - well, my chances of pulling a girl after all the _Prophet_ articles are practically nonexistent, and you're gay as a spoon anyway, so I just thought - "  
  
"I'm not _gay_ , Potter," Draco said crossly. "And I don't see why the sexuality of spoons is so suspect."  
  
"Oh, come off it," Harry scoffed, setting his grading quill down. "Everyone's known you were gay since third year."  
  
"That's ridiculous, I took Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball and dated her through sixth year."  
  
"Yeah, and now she's shacked up with Madam Rosmerta and they've adopted three war orphans, Malfoy, so that story's really not helping your cause."  
  
Draco scowled. "I don't see where her decisions have anything to do with me."  
  
"Look, it's not like it's a _problem_. Given that your tongue's been in my mouth about as much as it's been in yours for the past three weeks, I doubt I'm really in a position to judge you on your preferences."  
  
"I'm not gay," Draco spat. "It's boarding school mentality, that's all. We're in a remote boarding school in Scotland, these things are bound to happen."  
  
"...Draco, we're _professors_."  
  
"You finally noticed? Congratulations."  
  
" _And_ Hogwarts isn't boys-only." Harry suddenly had a thought. "D'you suppose that's why your mum didn't want you to go to Durmstrang?"  
  
"Oh my _god_ , just _shut up_ ," Draco demanded, slamming his book shut.  
  
"...Well." Harry subsided for a moment, and went back to reading over the essay. "When you're ready to tell me, I'll be here to listen," he said, quoting Hermione from a conversation they'd had after the first ridiculous _Prophet_ article broke. Draco scowled at him, blushing faintly.  
  
"Anyway, if I _were_ gay, what would that make _you_?" he asked a moment later, eyes slitted suspiciously. "You've certainly had next to no trouble adjusting to being my pretend boyfriend."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," Harry shrugged, making another mark on the parchment. "I'm not gay, it's for the sake of the mission."  
  
"Well, you might want to give your penis that memo, it's certainly not _pretending_ to dig into my hip every morning."  
  
Despite his best efforts, Harry could feel the heat start to seep into his cheeks. "Natural reaction to stimulus."  
  
"Oh, of course," Draco hissed. "I'm sure _lots_ of heterosexual men get turned on by _cuddling_ the other man in their bed."  
  
"Shut up," Harry snapped back, flush spreading to his neck and ears. "I'm not gay. ...I'm _Harry Potter_."  
  
"'The Next Queen of England'."  
  
Glowering, Harry picked up his armful of parchment essays and stomped over to the bed on the other side of the room, spreading them out on the duvet and making sure his back was to Draco before he started to read his student's essay again. Draco frowned and opened his book, removing the bookmark.  
  
They may have only been _pretending_ to work, but neither of them was going to call attention to it.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Six steps done, and Draco had _no idea_ where the last one could be, and Percy'd run out of possible books as well. So, he was effectively stuck at Hogwarts, a castle teeming with brats - a quarter of which were _Gryffindors_ (and another quarter Hufflepuffs, which were almost as bad) - and house elves and _Potter_. Sighing a martyrish sigh, Draco paced the perimeter of the Owlery and went back to sulking near a paneless window, watching the first snowfall of winter dust the grounds below. Above him, there was the peaceful rustle of owls fluttering onto the rafters and fluffing their down as they settled in for the night. The night sky above them was starless, given the clouds, but the moonlight shone through regardless, giving Hogwarts an opaque, soft-focus quality as it reflected off the snow.  
  
Despite himself, Draco was enjoying the effect. Hogwarts appeared now as it had in his dreams - cosy, idealised, with the window lights reflected on the lake and the turret-flags fluttering gently. The school's reality, of course, had been much different for him (Draco Malfoy had gone to his Sorting thinking that Slytherin House was well-liked and well-respected), but with the physical fact of students and professors and ghosts removed, with the lights shining cheerful and steady in the windows, he could almost see why so many people loved -  
  
Draco paused and tilted his head, the skin on his arms breaking into goosebumps as he realised that the ever-present rustle of feathers overhead had _stopped_. Breath going shallow, he slowly began to raise his chin, eyes tilted upwards, and had just managed to make out a terrifyingly large, black outline on the uppermost rafter before the whole Owlery seemed to explode - post owls shot out of every opening as fast as they could fly, and Draco ducked and clapped his hands ineffectively over his ears as the shrill, horrible, portentous scream of a banshee echoed in the room like a belfry.  
  
  
Harry'd never actually been bored enough to manage to send out his Christmas cards before New Years' Eve, so he wasn't sure whether to be proud of himself or really depressed with the state of his social life as he trudged up the stairs towards the Owlery to fetch Hedwig. Christmas holiday wasn't for another one and a half weeks and he'd be spending the whole of it at Hogwarts, alternating between sniping at his pretend boyfriend and trying not to touch him (he was trying not to analyse that impulse too much). Humming an off-key version of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," Harry sifted through the stack of envelopes. He skimmed for spelling errors as he crossed the footbridge and trotted up the highest enclosed staircase of the actual castle, opening the door that led to the Owlery tower.  
  
He was nearly blown back down the staircase by the force of the banshee scream that ripped past the open door. Automatically putting his hands on his ears (one hand still had the envelopes in it), Harry squinted up through the sift of falling snow and fleeing owls to try to catch a glimpse of the banshee - he'd heard there was a pack of ferals that had invaded Hogsmeade til they were driven into the Forbidden Forest, but he hadn't considered that they might try to come on the school grounds. He actually stepped out onto the open landing, ducking as a little barn owl almost flew into him, and though he might have seen an abnormally large figure flapping around the tower, before he noticed something on the snow-blown staircase. His mouth went dry.  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry called, rushing forward, taking the steps two at a time til a patch of owl shit and ice nearly threw him over the rickety stair railing. He grabbed onto it (half of the Christmas cards were sent fluttering down onto parts of Hogwarts' roof) and pulled himself back into standing, holding on tight as he picked his way up to where Draco was slumped, cradling his head between his hands. Another banshee wail ripped through the air above them, and Harry glanced up quickly - feral banshees had been known to help along the death omen that came with their scream, if the prey looked easy. "Malfoy, get up, there's a banshee," Harry ordered, prodding at Draco's shoulder with a finger.  
  
Draco shuddered, the long-fingered hand on the railing curling tighter. "Just shut _up_ ," he mumbled, voice thick, and Harry was a hair's breadth away from giving in to his instincts and _shouting_ before he noticed long, angry claw marks on the back of Malfoy's neck and robes. The banshee screamed again, and while Harry winced and had to put his hands over his ears again, he noticed that Draco seemed to _shake_ with it, the muscles in his back and arms visibly tensing in pain.  
  
The banshee was circling above them now, and if that scream could set Harry's ears to ringing he didn't want to _think_ about what it might be doing to the inside of Malfoy's head. "Come on, Draco," he murmured, ignoring Malfoy's flinch as he reached and halfway succeeded in pulling the other man into his arms. Draco gasped at the jostling and attendant pain, but tried to move along with him, slitting his eyes open and twining his fingers around the railing for added support as Harry manoeuvred back down the iced-over stairs and onto the open landing. The the banshee went into a dive.  
  
"STUPEFY," Harry shouted, sending a bolt of light from his wand at one of its "wings," knocking it into a brief tailspin. Draco's whimper at the loudness of the shout was muffled in Harry's chest, and Harry muttered an apology as he dragged them towards the door, unable to get traction on the doorknob for a few precious seconds before he removed his glove.  
  
"Coming back," Draco gasped, and Harry turned around just in time to see the banshee hurtling towards them, talons unsheathed.  
  
"INCENDIO," he shrieked, going cold and terrified as he got a good look at the size of the claws. The fireball that erupted from his wand barely refrained from catching Draco's trousers on fire, but it did scare the banshee off long enough for Harry to wrench the door open and tug Draco inside. He kicked the heavy door shut, just barely closing it before the recovered banshee streaked towards it, colliding with the metal with a colossal thud. Harry gasped for air, eyes wild as he scanned the enclosed staircase for possible entryways, and didn't seem to notice how he was cuddling Draco into his chest until Malfoy's shoulders began to jerk. "...Shit," he breathed, looking down at him. "Malfoy?" He turned Draco over gently, trying to see his face, worried that he was going into shock.  
  
He really _wasn't_ prepared to see a pained smile on Malfoy's face - Draco was _laughing_ at how the banshee had ricocheted off the door. "You complete arsehole," he hissed, beyond relieved. "Oh my god, I can't believe you. You had me bloody _worried_ for a second, you _git_ \- "  
  
Draco winced and gestured with a hand, sealing Harry's mouth shut with a wandless spell that seemed to pain him almost as much as Harry's talking had. Harry's squawk was mercifully muffled, and it took him a minute to figure out how to reverse the spell without saying anything, but by the time he'd managed it, he'd also managed to figure out that the ringing bells in Draco's head would settle more easily if he kept quiet. Outside, they could both hear the banshee scrabbling against the stone walls, trying to get in - it let loose a few more wails that made Draco shudder violently before Harry remembered his _Silencio_ and managed to dampen the sounds coming from outside the small room. At the sudden quiet, Draco exhaled and seemed to relax in his arms, eyes closing again.  
  
"Feeling b - " Harry's well-meaning question was cut off abruptly as Draco reached a hand up and pinched his lips together, one eye cracked open. Harry frowned, but subsided, and contented himself with checking Malfoy over, carefully tucking him in close enough to be able to start healing the slashes on his back and neck. Draco shivered and went pliant as the skin knitted back together in seconds, and gave Harry's shoulder a grateful squeeze. Harry shrugged it, making Draco smile a little, and hoisted him up enough to touch their foreheads together, feeling the rhythm of Draco's breathing from the air on his cheek. Their breath puffed together into the cold air, and Draco turned his head slowly, so that Harry's cheek slid along his, the cold tips of their noses pressed against cheekbones. Harry's glasses dug into his skin, and into Draco's as well, and he closed his eyes behind them as Draco's breath began to warm against his jaw.  
  
Draco's lips were cold against his skin. Shivering at the feel of them, Harry couldn't help turning his head just enough to nuzzle, just a little, and then he'd tucked his chin in enough to press his own lips to the corner of Malfoy's, staying there to warm them with his breath until Draco responded by tilting his head just enough -  
  
and then they were kissing, silent except for the faint sounds of chapped lips parting, small breaths gasped into the cold around them. Harry shivered, not from the cold, and hitched Draco's body closer in to his own, draping his own heavy cloak around them both since Malfoy ( _impractical git_ ) had appeared to forget his own. And then Draco's tongue was on his lips, slicking them cold before tentatively moving inside and suddenly the air was a bit warmer around them. Draco sighed and fisted a hand in the back of his hair, and made a small choking noise in the back of his throat, and Harry couldn't help a whimper as -  
  
The crunch of stone broke through the silencing barriers behind them. Draco shuddered, but opened his eyes as he pulled away, craning to inspect the wall near the door. "It's breaking through," he muttered, only slurring his words a little as he struggled to sit upright on Harry's lap. Worried (he'd never been _worried_ on a mission before, what the fuck?), Harry nodded and rubbed Draco's back.  
  
"The footbridge," he murmured, wincing as he thought of the thirty yards of sprinting they'd have to do to reach the main body of Hogwarts Castle. "Can you?"  
  
"Known how to walk for two decades, Scarhead." Draco gave him an unfocused smirk. "I'll race you."  
  
They picked their way down the stairs to the door connecting the Owlery to the footbridge, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Along the way, Draco remembered that his wand had been knocked out of his hand in the Owlery, which was unlucky - being unarmed against a Dark Creature was considered tantamount to a death wish in Auror circles. However, Harry still had his wand, so they weren't entirely defenceless. They reached the bottom of the staircase, and while Draco leant against the wall and tried to keep very still, Harry slowly opened the door, hoping the rusty hinges would cooperate.  
  
"All right, Malfoy," he muttered, once he'd got the door open enough for Draco to slip out of it. Looking a bit better than he had earlier (though still strikingly bad), Draco moved towards the door and slid out of it, trying to hold it in place as Harry made to slip out as well. They'd both managed to get outside the building, and stared at the length of the footbridge for a moment, intimidated by the length of it. They could hear the banshee still attempting to smash into the other side of the building.  
  
"On the count of three, we run for it," Harry breathed, crouching low at a particularly rough-sounding crash. He reached for Draco's hand, and gave it a quick squeeze.  
  
"Easy peasy," Draco murmured hoarsely. "I'll hold the door open for you when I get there."  
  
Harry couldn't help a quiet chuckle, taking a deep breath. "One." He crouched lower, into a running stance.  
  
"Two." Draco sighed and crouched as well, playing along.  
  
"... _Three_ ," Harry hissed, and lunged forward at the same time Malfoy did. Draco took off on his way down the footbridge; Harry _tried_ , but the corner of his winter cloak had got caught in the door when they closed it and when he tried to run, the door screeched shut, pinching the material inside it. A blood-curdling scream from the other side of the building sent a shiver up both mens' spines, and Draco skidded to a stop, going white when he saw Harry pinned by his cloak.  
  
" _Draco_ ," Harry cried, tugging on the fastening at his neck and gesturing frantically for him to go ahead. Draco hesitated for a second, but then made his decision and dug his heels in for traction on the slightly-slippery bridge as he scrambled back towards the stairs.  
  
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuckfuck _fuck_ ," Harry muttered, shaking fingers useless as he tried to yank the fastening open, shrinking down as he and Draco both saw the banshee whip up into the night sky, searching for them. It spotted Harry easily, a dark spot on the white snow, and began to go into a lazy dive, sure of its prey.  
  
" _God_ , Potter, always make things so _difficult_ ," Draco snarled as he slid onto his knees on the ground beside Harry, not even bothering with the cloak fastenings, just shoving Harry's head under the collar of his cloak and pulling him away from it easily. "Now _move_ ," he barked, grabbing hold of Harry's free hand (the other was clutching his wand) and sprinting for the door at the other end of the footbridge. Harry scrabbled to keep up, the cold air like daggers in his lungs as they both ran as fast as they could towards the other end.  
  
" _Alohomo_ \- " Harry began, pointing his wand towards the door as the began to get close, determined to just let them run inside. However, they were suddenly blindsided by the banshee; it struck through the open arches of the bridge, sending him hurtling forward, past Draco, sliding on the icy surface of the bridge as his wand went rattling onto the boards.  
  
"HARRY," Draco shrieked, trying to keep up with him, making a lunge for his wand before it fell into the ravine below. He skidded onto his knees and twisted as he grabbed, only catching it on his fingertips, sliding into Harry at the corner of the footbridge and knocking his head on Harry's knee. Dazed, he shook his head and the first thing he saw was the door. "Harry, we're almost there, we - "  
  
A strangled noise from Harry silenced him, and Draco turned around, gasping and attempting to burrow back into Potter as he was suddenly faced with a banshee not three feet away from them, hovering over the boards of the footbridge, its waxy pale skin seeming to glow in the moonlight. It gazed at them for a moment, black things _moving_ behind its eyes, and then gave them a horrible smile, twice as many pointed teeth in its mouth as there should've been. And then it screamed.  
  
Shuddering, hunching down into himself, Harry nonetheless had the presence of mind to cover up Draco's ears firmly with his own hands, whimpering as the banshee seemed to steal his breath as well as his ability to think and see. It finally stopped, looking almost amused at the way Harry's eyes were bright with pain behind his glasses.  
  
"...You wouldn't happen to be related to the Blacks, would you?"  
  
Both the banshee and Harry blinked curiously at Draco, who was lounging back against Potter as if he'd sprawled there intentionally and they were all discussing current affairs. Only Harry would have noticed the shallow breathing, the stillness associated with pain. "I have an aunt - well, _had_ an aunt, and you remind me of her a bit," he explained. "Mad as a hatter. And she used the same line of cosmetics as you, I think."  
  
The banshee blinked again, and tilted its head to an unnatural angle.  
  
"Oh yes, she screamed a lot too. Especially at the end, I hear," Draco smiled, almost pleasantly except for a chilling thread of malice in his eyes. "Tell her hello, from me. _Accio_ Harry's wand!" he shouted, arm outstretched for the two seconds it took for the familiar stick of wood to come hurtling from the middle of the bridge. " _Sectumsempra_ ," he snarled, watching with grim satisfaction as the curse hit the creature and appeared to slash it right in two. The banshee gave them a startled look, and then an aborted shriek of pain as it shrivelled in on itself, barely-contained magic dissipating into the atmosphere until nothing was left but a heap of tattered black fabric and spiderwebs.  
  
Draco and Harry stared at it for a moment, both shivering with cold and adrenalin. "...Holy shit," Harry murmured, recovering first. "You killed it."  
  
"It was already dead," Draco muttered, finally letting go of Harry's wand, letting it clatter onto the boards of the bridge beside them. "I didn't kill it."  
  
"You did, I saw you! You k - "  
  
" _Harry_ ," Draco said, turning around to give him a quelling look. Harry swallowed, taken aback, but then nodded and tugged him up close.  
  
"It was already dead, then," Harry murmured, rubbing Draco's back, deciding not to comment on the shaking. "Thanks, by the way."  
  
"Of course," Draco said, his shivering worsening. "Cold."  
  
Harry tsked and reached for his wand, _Accio_ -ing his cloak from the other end of the bridge (and _Accio_ -ing Draco's for good measure). He draped the cloak around Draco's shoulders, not paying attention to the half-hearted protests Draco was muttering. "Shut up and take it. I was cold too," he reasoned, catching Draco's cloak when it showed up a moment later (it had had farther to travel). He arranged _that_ one around Draco's legs.  
  
"You know, you might have just moved me inside the door there, instead of making me stay outside in the snow," Draco pointed out, smirking as he watched Harry flush with embarrassment.  
  
"What can I say, I'm hoping you contract pneumonia," he muttered, bringing a bit of cloak up to cover Draco's ear, pressing the backs of his fingers to Malfoy's cheek gently. "...Thanks, again."  
  
"Please, Potter," Malfoy scoffed, dropping his eyes. "What was I supposed to do, watch you get slashed to ribbons?" He scooted closer into the circle of Harry's arms, his eyes going at the added warmth. "Without any help from _me_?" he added a moment later, smirking.  
  
And then, before Harry could respond, Malfoy tugged him down into a thorough kiss and kept him there.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
Draco grunted as Harry pressed him up against the corridor wall, pinning thin wrists to a point just above his shoulders. Harry kissed him again, firmly, demanding control and not letting up until Draco willingly gave over. He whimpered and nipped at Harry's lip, twisting his head away to suck in a lungful of air before coming back for more.  
  
"Where on earth did _you_ learn to kiss like this?" Draco asked, pleased, after Harry had coaxed a sharp whine out of him by sucking on his tongue.  
  
"Well, I'd been snogging _you_ for almost a month before you went frigid ice bitch on me, I suppose that counts for something," Harry pointed out, smirking as he provoked another interesting noise by licking at the underside of Malfoy's top lip.  
  
"You learned from a master," Draco said loftily.  
  
"...bater," Harry added, smirking as Draco just gazed at him confusedly. After a second, however, Draco caught on and smacked his arm irritably.  
  
"How you've managed to reach this advanced age still a virgin is _beyond_ me," he drawled, opening the door to their rooms.  
  
"I was saving myself for Jesus," Harry said breezily, beginning to undo the buttons on his shirt, depositing his winter cloak in a heap on the floor. Draco watched him, eyes darkening interestedly as the pale, smooth skin of Harry's stomach was gradually exposed. He cast a drying and folding charm on the cloak on the floor, then crossed towards Harry, plucking his fingers away to take care of the buttons himself.  
  
"No more talking," Draco decided, imperious, as he finished with Harry's buttons and pushed the material off his shoulders, looking him over approvingly. Harry smirked and tugged on Malfoy's belt, unfastening it as he crowded in for another kiss, shivering as chilly hands warmed themselves on his sides. They kissed easily (they'd had an ample amount of practice time, after all), content with an almost placid exploration until Harry managed to tug Draco's jumper up over his head and they were suddenly chest to chest, skin to skin - things were, after that, a _lot_ more urgent.  
  
Harry didn't realise Draco had backed him to the bed until he actually fell down _on_ it, arms windmilling a little until he realised the mattress was there to catch him and that Draco wasn't actually letting go - they both collapsed and wheezed for a second, before Draco clambered up onto Harry's stomach, straddling his hips, and licked a long line over his collarbones. Sucking in a startled breath, Harry groaned and arched, and then a moment later turned them over, so that they were in the middle of the bed. He settled between Draco's thighs and grinned down at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he pulled back enough to just _look_ \- Draco was too pale and thin, but _pretty_ , his neck and chest flushed with arousal and his hair falling in waves around his head like a dandelion. Harry paused, almost frowning, and traced the silvery-white line of the old _Sectumsempra_ scar from his shoulder to his side, glancing up as Draco shivered. "Hurt?"  
  
"Did at the time," Malfoy replied, a little breathless. "Doesn't now," he added, shrugging a bony shoulder as he tugged Harry into another kiss, more heated this time as they started to move together on the bed, their hips working fitfully against each other until they managed to find a pace that worked. Draco squeezed Harry's thighs with his own.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Harry gasped, surging forward, his stomach twisting with wand as he felt the line of Malfoy's cock rubbing insistently against his own, between too many layers of clothing. Under him, Draco whimpered and hitched his hips up higher, rocking mindlessly. Draco's tongue was pink on his lips, wetting them just before they opened around an uneven _yes_ and that seemed consent enough to both of them - Harry's hands were shaking with want as he fumbled with Draco's trousers and underwear a few seconds later, tugging them out of the way, gazing dumbly at an erection that wasn't his own until Draco huffed and wriggled the rest of the way out of the clothes himself.  
  
"Come on, Potter," he said, grabbing for the buttons on Harry's jeans, startled when Harry grabbed his wrist and pinned it on the mattress.  
  
" _Harry_ ," he said, having to kiss the confused look Malfoy gave him. "Not Potter." It took him a second, but then Draco relaxed and nodded, tugging his hand away from Harry's grip and lying back, letting him take care of his own jeans and boxers.  
  
"Well, stop stalling, _Harry_ ," Draco smirked, stretching underneath him, eyes going dark and half-lidded as he looked Potter over.  
  
"Eager, are you?" Harry smirked back, chucking his clothes onto a chair beside the bed and stretching out on top of him, closing his eyes at the feeling of so much skin against his own. Draco didn't respond, he just arched his back and squirmed, sending stars shooting through Harry's vision.  
  
Both physically exhausted and emotionally raw (a near-death experience'll do that), neither Harry nor Draco were patient enough to discuss what it was they were doing (or, indeed, how to do it). Draco knew a lubrication spell, and Harry'd heard about the prostate gland from Ron (Hermione was very _thorough_ in her sexual experiments), and luckily they were both limber enough not to do each other any permanent damage.  
  
There was, also, a certain strange charge between them - one that had been tempered by mutual hatred and lately, ironic pet names - that made the experience...unique. Harry quaked with nervousness and lust as he made his first hesitant press inside Draco's body, and there was a long minute where everything was scarily on the brink of going pear-shaped. And then Draco _gasped_ and opened his eyes, looking directly up at him, and Harry suddenly felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest as he gazed back down. He swallowed and moved, tentative at first, his breath sticking in the back of his throat as he watched Draco's chest hitch and judder in a fruitless effort to keep his breathing steady.  
  
"Good?" he managed, sounding strangled. Draco nodded, his mouth falling open and his eyes closing.  
  
They were uncharacteristically quiet - Draco's breathing was quick and nervous and loud in the room, slowly evening out, and Harry was sure that if he tried to say anything _sexy_ , he'd end up sounding ridiculous, so he'd resolved not to before they even began. Then, a moment or two later, Harry's knee slipped on the bedsheets as he pushed in and Draco let out a ridiculous-sounding moan - Harry was certain he'd accidentally killed him. "Shit, sorry!" he gasped, trying to still his hips and failing spectacularly - he let out his own small groan as he thrust in again, and was shocked even more than the _first_ time as Draco moaned _again_. "Oh God, am I killing you?" he whimpered, though he wasn't really planning to stop even if he was.  
  
"... _fuck_ yes don't _stop_ ," Draco choked a couple of seconds later, his hips giving a funny little swivel that served to push Harry even farther in. Harry gasped, startled, and then broke into a grin as he cottoned on, and he planted his knees more firmly, keeping about the same angle and watching, delighted, as Draco just _came apart._  
  
" _Oh_ oh, _shit_ , P - Harry, don't fucking stop, don't you dare - " Draco whimpered, graduating to just _rutting_ shamelessly, his face flushing redder than Harry had ever seen it. Harry couldn't help it, he stared at Draco, hypnotised by what he was causing. A shiver of need worked through him, making him fuck in harder as he watched Draco thrash and bite at the corner of the duvet to try to shut himself up.  
  
"No, keep, it's - _fuck_ ," Harry gasped, dragging the duvet away from him, tugging it out of his mouth. "Keep going," he groaned, having to rest his forehead against Draco's neck as he sped up, trying to match the rhythm Draco was setting. His arms were shaking, threatening to give way, and after another minute Harry just gave up and curled around him entirely, hands clutching his shoulders as he tried to get in deeper, faster. A sharp lance of pain in his arm distracted him, until he realised Draco was _biting_ him, hard enough to bruise, and Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and his hips pounded against Malfoy's arse mercilessly.  
  
Draco's whimpers were gradually rising, til they were a good octave higher than where they'd begun, before he let go of Harry's arm and pressed his head back into the pillows, neck stretching as far as it could as he alternately pleaded and demanded for Harry not to stop, to keep _fucking_ him, to make him come. He managed to get a fistful of hair and drag Harry's mouth to his neck, pressing him in until Harry took the hint and bit down as well, not hard, licking at salt-sweat skin as he felt Draco's legs start to twitch around him. Draco accidentally elbowed Harry in the gut as he wormed a hand between them to pump his own cock feverishly, his fingers starting to shake as he felt the first firings of his climax low in his belly.  
  
"Going to - _fuck_ , Potter," he whined, the shaking spreading to his limbs, "fuck, you're going to make me - " and he gasped, interrupting himself and going rigid in Harry's arms as he came, spurts of white slicking over both their stomachs as he kept _shaking_. The hand that had been in Harry's hair was suddenly on his back, slipping on sweat, and Draco's uneven nails were scratching pink trails in his skin, shocking him that much closer towards his own end.  
  
Harry nearly choked on a desperate little moan, his skin prickling with _how close he was_ , and his mouth had fallen open against Draco's neck as he felt the heat of the scratches and the pulses of come hitting his skin. He didn't last another two thrusts before he was coming as well, his vision going swimmy as he shot inside Draco's arse and swore he could feel his own come slick and hot around him, the pulse of his heart in all of his extremities.  
  
(Given Harry's reaction to the scratches, Draco quickly made plans to appropriate one of those scarring quills of Umbridge's.)  
  
Overcome and half-conscious, Harry slumped down onto Draco, breath hot against his neck as they both tried to recover from being nearly killed twice in one evening - first by a banshee and then by inescapably earth-shattering sex. "Oh, my god," he breathed, eyes closing. He felt, rather than saw, Draco nod.  
  
"That was...surprising," Draco sighed a moment later, his own eyes closed as well. "Christ, Potter," he murmured, breaking into a genuine smile.  
  
"Mmmmm. Yeah," Harry muttered. "...Maybe I _am_ gay."  
  
Draco couldn't help it; he started laughing - tired, half-whimpering laughter that shook Harry on his chest. "Don't know where you'd get that idea," he murmured, opening his eyes enough to tap Harry's shoulder. "Oi there, no falling asleep where you are, we'll be glued together when we wake up."  
  
"Mmrph," Harry mumbled, hiding his face in Draco's chest. "You'd like it."  
  
"...Hm." Draco seemed to consider the idea for a moment, but then went back to pestering him. "No, no. Get off, we can do it again tomorrow. And do some cleaning spells, you're the one who's good at them."  
  
"What? No! You do them."  
  
"Potter - _Harry_ , you know that I'm terrible with them, we'll just get spunk all over the sheets if you don't."  
  
"Hmm. ...All right, I will if you'll say the word 'spunk' again."  
  
Draco snorted and hit his shoulder. Harry blinked his eyes open and gave a huge sigh, and propped himself up on an elbow as he got off of Malfoy and reached for his wand. A round of cleaning spells later, Draco had mercifully stopped nagging, and they were both burrowed comfortably down into the bedcovers and pillows. Draco yawned hugely, and dragged one of Harry's arms around his waist, hugging it. Harry stretched and curled around him comfortably.  
  
"Night, sweetpea," Harry teased gently, squeezing the arm around him.  
  
"Night, darling," a half-asleep Draco mumbled back.

 

 

Over the next week, Harry and Draco had sex in thirty-seven different rooms in the castle, including the staff lounge, the kitchens (the walk-in icebox actually - Draco accidentally kicked the latch on the door as he came down Harry's throat, and they'd've been turned into popsicles had a house elf not walked in an hour later and unwittingly saved them), the prefects' bathroom, the Quidditch shed, the Charms classroom, the Defence classroom, the Headmistress's Office (McGonagall was late to a planning meeting and Draco had a _thing_ with the possibility of getting caught), and the Potions lab.  
  
Draco still couldn't look Augusta Longbottom in the eye after she'd walked in on them and seen him being fucked across Professor Snape's old desk. Harry had found the whole thing hilarious, right up until the old lady lost her temper and transfigured a set of donkey ears onto his head and refused to end the spell. Draco wouldn't help him either, and so they'd stayed there for two days until Professor Flitwick took pity on him.  
  
Harry couldn't seem to help himself - being a novice to the whole _sex_ concept, and something of an experience junkie to boot, it seemed only just and right for him to drag Draco into abandoned lecture rooms and behind suits of armor and - like now - into the second-floor girls' bathroom and demand to be fucked over one of the sinks.  
  
"God, you are _such_ a deviant," Draco said fondly, tilting his head and giving Harry a grin as he began to undo his trousers. Harry beamed as he unbuttoned his work robes. "Lock the door."  
  
"No, no students come in here anyway," Harry said, shrugging a shoulder at Malfoy's sharp look and giving him a smirk. "Thought you liked the idea of someone watching, pumpkin," he drawled, rubbing a hand over the front of his own trousers as he opened them, enjoying the way Draco stared. "Thought it made you _hard_."  
  
"It does," Draco purred, slinking forward, pressing Harry's arse back into the cool porcelain sink. "Among other things." Harry's knees threatened to buckle at the sound of his _voice_ like that, and he gasped sharply as lips suddenly closed around his earlobe, and started to squirm. "Turn around," Draco breathed into his ear, and Harry promptly obeyed, making them both grin as he fumbled to push his trousers and robes and underwear out of the way.  
  
" _Yes_ , hurry, want you to _fuck_ \- "  
  
"Oh, who is it _now_?" came an echo-y, petulant voice from beneath the floor. Both men froze, Draco with a hand on Harry's bare arse, Harry still with handfuls of material he was trying to push down, their eyes glued on the closed doors of the stalls. Suddenly, the scowling, ghostly head of Moaning Myrtle popped through one of the doors and she didn't seem to recognise either Draco or Harry, or the way they were suddenly scrambling to tug their pants back on. "What do _you_ want?" she hissed.  
  
"Myrtle, it's Harry," Harry said, giving her a quizzical look as he struggled with the zip of his trousers. "Harry Potter, remember?"  
  
"... _Ohh_ ," she gasped, eyes going wide for a second before she pasted on a bright smile. "Hello, Harry," she said, affecting a young voice as she floated forward. Harry backed away, til his back hit the wall, one hand still trying to get the zipper up. "How _are_ you," she said, her voice dipping low and ostensibly sultry.  
  
"Er, fine! Just fine!" Harry said nervously, gesturing for Malfoy to stop leaning against the door and come and do something. "And you?"  
  
"Oh, you know, can't complain," she sighed, batting her eyelashes unsubtly. "...Except for that bit about being _dead_."  
  
Harry gave a nervous chuckle. "Ah, right, yes. Well! Better be g - "  
  
"You never _visit_ anymore, Harry," Myrtle complained. "You never write. Nobody's _ever_ written to me, can you imagine? _Never_ getting a letter from _anyone_?" she asked, the shadow of her lower lip trembling.  
  
"Even if you did, how would you open it?" Draco asked sensibly, walking over to join Harry against the wall, giving Myrtle a thin smile. "Myrtle. You're looking well." Myrtle scowled fiercely at the newcomer, before she blinked and squinted.  
  
"Wait, you're the _boy_!" she exclaimed a few seconds later. "The boy in my bathroom!"  
  
Draco shifted against the wall and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the memories. "Yes."  
  
"Oh, well!" she looked a lot happier at the prospect, and gave them both a smug smile. "That's different. Not _crying_ this time, are you?"  
  
"No," Draco said tightly, and Harry was surprised when he felt a hand sliding down to his groin. "You have a lesson in twenty minutes, sweetheart, shouldn't we be going?" There was the sudden rasp of a zipper, and Harry gasped, shocked - Draco had managed to get it unstuck. Myrtle blinked at them, and then her lower lip began to tremble - Harry hadn't even had time to react before she let out an almighty wail and sailed back to her stall, splashing water as she slid back down the pipe.  
  
"All of my favourites _forget_ about me!" she cried, her voice reverberating in the pipes and the tile room. "They _leave_ me, and I'm still stuck here in my pipe! Because...because..."  
  
"Myrtle," Harry began warningly -  
  
"Because I'm _DEAD_ ," she moaned. "No one ever thinks of _me_ , and how _hard_ it is, they all just _leave_ me and get jobs and families and _boyfriends_ ," she snarled (Draco covered a laugh with a cough, and raised his hands innocently as Harry shot him a glare). "And everyone here is so _mean_ , always clattering about in the pipes, they won't even let me _sleep_ and I _do need my beauty sl -_ "  
  
"Hang on. People are in _your_ pipes?" Harry said, his eyebrows knitting. There was another splash, and a graceful fountain of water that cleared the stall walls, before cascading down onto the floor and over their shoes. Myrtle flew up towards the ceiling, and then back down again, giving Harry an accusing look.  
  
"No one knows how hard it is," she sulked. "They were the only place I could go to be _alone_ , and now they're - "  
  
"Who? Where are they going?" Harry snapped, interrupting her. Myrtle blinked, but then obviously decided she rather _liked_ the snapping, and gave Harry a coy smile.  
  
"I don't know. They just...walk along, their shoes tap-tapping til it makes my _head_ hurt," she sighed, raising a hand to her forehead delicately. Draco snorted, which earned him an evil glare.  
  
"How'd they get there?" Harry asked, getting nervous - he didn't know of anyone other than himself and one corpse ( _please God still let it be a corpse_ ) that could've opened the Chamber of Secrets, how else could one access the pipes?  
  
Myrtle looked irritated that her damsel-in-distress act hadn't worked. "I don't _know_ ," she groused. "Am I supposed to look after _everyone_ in the Castle?" She sucked in a breath, and began to work up a sob. "When there's _no one_ to look after _me_?"  
  
Harry scowled, but didn't bother answering - he moved back to the sinks, inspecting them until he found the one with the little snake etched in. His lips thinned. "Got your wand, Malfoy?"  
  
"What're you on about, Harry?" Draco asked, regarding him a little warily. Harry shot him a look. "Yes, I do have my wand, but what - "  
  
"Someone's managed to get into the pipes. The only way I know of to get there is by using Parseltongue," he explained shortly, shucking off his work robes and draping them over a stall door.  
  
"Oh. ...Shit, you don't think that - "  
  
"Don't see who else it could be."  
  
" _Shit_ ," Draco said feelingly. "All right, what's the plan?"  
  
Harry frowned and tried to concentrate on the tap with the snake. "Go in, see what's happening, destroy Voldemort. Again."  
  
Draco _was_ actually quiet for a good ten seconds. "That plan's terrible, Potter. He could have...I don't know, Inferi down there."  
  
"How would he get Inferi into Hogwarts?"  
  
"Well, _I_ don't know, how would he come back from the dead all on his own and get into Hogwarts without anyone noticing in the first place? If he could do _that_ , I imagine he could manage the Inferi."  
  
Harry scowled. "Shut up." Quickly, before Draco could say anything else with too much of an emphasis on _logic_ , he started the Parseltongue, moving away from the tap quickly as it morphed into the entrance he remembered from a decade earlier. ...It looked a lot smaller, this time. He glanced around at Draco.  
  
Draco was staring at _him_ instead of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and he was blushing.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, irritably, and squawked as Draco _pounced_ on him, not so much kissing him as attempting to _eat his face_. Eventually, Harry managed to pull away, and they both gasped for air. "What the _fuck_ is the matter with you?" he shouted (though honestly, he hadn't exactly minded).  
  
" _God_ , that was sexy. D'you have to be looking at a snake to do it? Or can you just turn it on anytime?" Draco breathed, gaze hot as it raked over him. Harry gaped, and then wriggled away.  
  
"Could you please _try_ for a bit of perspective?" he fumed. "Bad man. Down that hole. Marginally more important than kinky sex."  
  
"Yes, well, keep your evening free," Draco retorted, eyeing the front of his trousers blatantly.  
  
"Unbelievable," Harry huffed. He stuck his wand through his beltloop and headed towards the entrance, climbing onto the start of the winding slide he remembered, and turned around to give Draco a look. "Coming?"  
  
"Nearly." Draco smirked as Harry rolled his eyes, and climbed in as well, settling behind him. "Well, this is fun."  
  
"Shut up, I've got my feet keeping us from going down yet. Hang on."  
  
"Ooh, gladly." Draco grinned as he wrapped both arms around Harry from behind, and nipped his earlobe cheerfully. Frustrated (and a little turned on), Harry let go, and they both slid off into darkness.  
  
They collapsed onto the floor of the chamber a few minutes later. A few minutes after _that_ , Draco stopped whimpering, and actually released the death grip he had on Harry's waist. Harry gasped in a deep breath, and groaned. "That was a _lot_ more fun when I was twelve," he grunted, getting up onto his hands and knees, fighting back an urge to vomit.  
  
"Ungh," Draco agreed, curling up into a foetal position. "Tell me when the room's stopped spinning." Harry sighed and crawled over to cast a quick balance-restoring spell on them both, and flopped onto the ground beside him. Presently Draco sat up and blinked into the dim room around them. " _Lumos_ ," he muttered, and the tip of his wand immediately lit, casting a thin amount of light through the cavernous room around them. "...Merlin," he breathed, eyes widening.  
  
Harry propped up on his elbows and surveyed the room as well. "Wow."  
  
"Indeed," Draco murmured, and then, strangely, began to giggle. "Shouldn't there be minor-key organ music? And a moat?"  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow, and grinned. "Please don't tell me to start calling you Christine."  
  
Draco laughed, and shook his head. "How did you ever think you were straight?" he sighed. Dusting himself off, he pushed himself up, grunting a little as he stood. He offered a hand down to Harry and tugged him up as well. "Lead the way, Potter, this was your idea."  
  
"All right." Harry took the lead easily, taking Draco's hand and giving it a squeeze as he started down a path he only vaguely remembered. They walked for five minutes, Draco squeaking whenever one of them would accidentally step on a few old, dusty mouse bones. Starting to get a bit nervous, Harry glanced around, trying to find something that looked familiar. "Oh, the basilisk skin," he said, gesturing over to their right, beginning to regain his sense of direction. "All right, we go this way," he said, pointing down a rubble-filled pipe.  
  
"...You did _kill_ that thing, didn't you?" Draco said, sounding dubious as he shone some light on the skin. He went a bit pale as he traced the length with his eyes.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"...And you were twelve."  
  
"Almost thirteen," Harry said defensively.  
  
"...Christ. Right, you go first," Draco ordered, prodding Harry towards the pipe. Harry scoffed and started down it, using _Lumos_ to light his own wandtip, doubling the light as they headed further into the underbelly of the Hogwarts plumbing system. They were silent for a few minutes as they walked, Draco clinging to Harry a bit.  
  
"It's not like there are _more_ of them," Harry muttered.  
  
"Well, maybe you were used to vanquishing giant evil killer snakes when you were twelve, but _I_ was still playing with _gobstones_ , so - "  
  
"You're a trained Auror!"  
  
"You're Harry Potter!"  
  
"That doesn't count as a retort!"  
  
"It does if I bloody say it d - "  
  
Harry shushed him as they came up to the source of the rubble - someone had dug a hole into the blockage that had nearly killed Ron and Lockhart so many years ago. From the other side of the hole, there was a bit of light spilling out, and someone _singing_.  
  
" _Fuck_ , this is creepy," Draco whimpered, attempting to burrow into Harry's back.  
  
"Shut up, they'll hear you," Harry hissed.  
  
"Oh my god, it's an Inferius army and we're going to be _killed_ ," Draco hissed back, pressing his forehead between Harry's shoulderblades. "I'm developing an ulcer and a heart condition, I can _feel_ them. Potter, you're killing me."  
  
"Don't give me ideas," Harry muttered, wincing as Draco squawked and smacked his arm. Cautiously, they picked their way up the rubble and peered through the hole - there were no Inferi, to Draco's immense relief, and the singing had grown fainter - the owner of the voice had obviously gone deeper into the tunnel, towards the Chamber of Secrets itself. "Right, well." Harry shrugged a metaphorical shoulder and pulled himself through the hole and into the room. "Come on."  
  
Draco whimpered again, but did as he was told - he stumbled onto the rocks and joined Harry on the other side after half a minute, rubbing at a couple of new bruises. "This is the exact opposite of a good idea, you realise."  
  
"It'll be fine. Voldemort struck me as a tenor, and that voice sounded more like a soprano," Harry shrugged, automatically holding his hand out for Malfoy's again. Malfoy glared at him, but took it, and pressed close behind him again as they walked. The cavernous dimensions of the first room had dwindled down to a claustrophobic tunnel around them, and Harry could hear Draco trying not to hyperventilate as they rounded a bend, and then another. And then, suddenly, the tunnel opened up in front of them into a huge chamber - Harry doused the light from his wand, and hissed for Malfoy to do the same, and they both let their eyes adjust to the light spilling from the torches of the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
Draco gaped at the fallen statue of Salazar Slytherin (Harry supposed it had toppled during the battle for Hogwarts during the last days of the war), and at the snake pillars, and at the enormity of the room. And then he blinked. "...Were there so many _books_ here, the last time you came?"  
  
Harry glanced back at Draco, and then followed his gaze, and frowned - there were small stacks of books set out on the floor, seemingly arranged by size and number of copies. "No. ...And there weren't any antimacassars on the snake heads," he mumbled, pointing them out to Malfoy.  
  
"And somebody's put an afghan on Slytherin's lap," Draco said, pointing over to where the bottom of the statue still stood.  
  
"Weird," Harry whispered, the hair prickling on the back of his neck (he'd been expecting vampires or Inferi or at the very least, Pettigrew trying for a Last Hurrah. Doilies and afghans reminded him of Umbridge and were, therefore, ten times scarier). He was so busy wracking his brain, trying to think of an enemy that might have a predilection for arts and crafts, that he didn't hear the footsteps from behind him til Draco squeaked and tugged at his arm. "What d'you - oh!" Harry gasped.  
  
"Hello, boys! Come for the meeting? Lovely, lovely, always nice to have new faces," Professor Sprout said, beaming at them both as she appeared in the tunnel behind them. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, I just popped out to put the kettle on." Her smile faded a little as she took in Harry's and Draco's dumbfounded expressions. "Well, don't stand here dawdling, we're already late!" And with that, she took Draco's hand and dragged him into the Chamber, swinging a bag of biscuits with her other hand. Draco turned and gave Harry a terrified look, and Harry had no choice but to follow after. "Look who I found lurking in the doorway!" Sprout crowed as she and Draco (and Harry) rounded a collapsed snake pillar.  
  
There was a circle of overstuffed armchairs and rocking chairs, and on them sat Professor Sinistra, Madam Pomfrey, Madam Pince, and Neville's grandmother (wearing the old vulture hat, no less). They all looked up and gave Harry and Draco smiles of varying degrees (Madam Pomfrey positively _beamed_ at them; Pince and Longbottom looked as if they'd sucked a lemon). Shifting the quilt around her knees, Madam Pomfrey scooted down on the sofa she was occupying, and patted the seat beside her. Draco gave Harry a nervous look, but Harry just shrugged a shoulder and nodded, and they both went to sit down, huddling into each other a little as they glanced around the elderly group.  
  
"Sorry we're late," Draco managed a moment later, remembering his manners. He jumped as Pomfrey shifted beside him, then sighed and actually gave her a smile as she offered him some of her quilt. Relaxing, Draco rearranged it for them, and Harry was prevailed upon to take a tray of biscuits from Professor Sinistra and pass it around, and they got to hear Professor Sprout tell about Our Julia who'd just had a daughter finish her degree at Cambridge (though how she was going to get a man wearing a white lab coat all the time was beyond anyone's comprehension).  
  
"...If you don't mind me asking," Harry managed to cut in after the discussion was through, "how did everyone find this place?"  
  
"Oh, the pipes," Professor Sprout said airily. "After the war was over, grates in the castle just...opened up."  
  
"Mm, there was one right in the _middle_ of an aisle in the Restricted Section. Nearly lost half of those Bagshot first editions that Amelia Bones left to the school," Madam Pince reminisced.  
  
"And I nearly lost half of Greenhouse Seven," Sprout reminded them. "Thought it was due to the sprinkler system, but no. Pipes," she said, gesturing.  
  
"There was one in the Infirmary as well," Madam Pomfrey nodded.  
  
Draco glanced over at Harry, who shrugged. "Suppose with the last Heir of Slytherin dead, the Chamber wasn't much use. Maybe Hogwarts just...absorbed it," he suggested.  
  
"Oh, is _that_ who that statue is?" Madam Pomfrey asked, delighted. "I'd wondered! Salazar Slytherin. ...Not much to look at, was he?"  
  
"He was a very great wizard," Professor Sinistra said disapprovingly.  
  
"Oh, yes, yes. Of course," Pomfrey said quickly, taking a sip of her tea. An uneasy silence descended on the group for a moment, as someone tried to think of a way to break the tension between the two of them.  
  
"...If we're all caught up, perhaps we should get started," Professor Sinistra said. A shiver of excitement went through the group, and Draco gave them a smile, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.  
  
"Started with what?"  
  
"Ohhh, the _resurrection_ ," Madam Pomfrey said, her eyes large and bright. "It's going to be marvelous," she breathed. Harry went cold, and felt Draco stiffen beside him.  
  
" _You're_ the ones doing the resurrection?" Harry found himself asking.  
  
"Of course!" Madam Pince said, sounding almost insulted.  
  
"But." Harry gaped at them all, snug and settled in with their afghans and pillows and cups of tea. "But _why_?"  
  
"Well, I don't expect _you two_ will understand," Madam Pince said, a trifle bitterly, "but the castle can be very..." she trailed off, waved a hand.  
  
"Lonely," Madam Pomfrey supplied.  
  
"Cold," Professor Sprout suggested.  
  
" _Boring_ ," Professor Longbottom added, giving them all an unamused look.  
  
Harry gaped some more. "And you think bringing Lord Voldemort back is going to make you less _lonely_?" he squawked. The old ladies stared at him for a moment and then, as one, began to titter.  
  
"Oh, bless you, Harry, _no_!" Madam Pomfrey giggled.  
  
"We're not bringing back You-Know-Who!" Professor Sprout gasped. "Of all the things!"  
  
"What could we do, offer him some tea before his rampages?" Pince said, actually _smiling_.  
  
Draco's mouth fell open. His left eye began to twitch as he started to realise that all his research for the past three months might have been for nothing. He gave Harry a wait-til-we-get-home look, and slouched back in his seat. "So...out of curiosity, who _are_ you resurrecting?"  
  
"Mister Darcy," Professor Sprout beamed, going pink.  
  
"Mister Rochester," Madam Pomfrey sighed dreamily.  
  
"...Heathcliff," Madam Pince muttered, sheepish. She shot Augusta Longbottom a look, since she'd just scoffed. "I _like_ him, he's _broody_ ," she said hotly.  
  
"He's a bastard," Professor Longbottom said shortly.  
  
"Well, who did _you_ pick, _Augusta_?" Madam Pince asked, scowling.  
  
Professor Longbottom cleared her throat. "...Sherlock Holmes," she muttered.  
  
"Oho, _speaking_ of bastards," Madam Pince sniped, before Professor Sprout conveyed her displeasure at all the _swearing_ by clearing her throat pointedly. "Well he is," Madam Pince muttered mutinously.  
  
"If he is, at least he's clever about it," Professor Longbottom hissed, unable to keep her peace.  
  
"Why, you - "  
  
"D'you mean to tell me," Draco said, and Harry could hear that he was trying desperately to keep a tinge of hysteria out of his voice, "that you've done all this _research_ into the process of resurrection so that you can bring back your own particular _heartthrobs_ of literature?" The teacup in his hand was shaking with indignation. "Barring the fact that it'll never work - since none of these men _actually existed_ \- "  
  
"Who's to say what's fiction and what's not?" Madam Pince said airily. "They may regard _us_ as fiction, one never knows."  
  
Draco glared at her. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. And I work with Potter."  
  
"Hey! Don't drag me into this just because you're hacked off that you had to do work!" Harry yelped.  
  
"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Draco hissed, narrowing his eyes at Harry. "I had to read _BATTLEFIELD EARTH_ while you swanned around giving _flying_ lessons to those Ravenclaw sixth years, and don't _think_ I didn't know what you were doing - "  
  
"They just wanted tips on their feints!" Harry said defensively.  
  
"Oh, _right_ , is that what they're calling it now?"  
  
"What! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever - "  
  
"Oh, for God's sake, this could go on for hours," Professor Sinistra muttered crossly, reaching to take Madam Pince's notebook off her lap, crossing to the remains of the lower half of Slytherin's statue, where the afghan had been draped across his knees. "You're certain the steps are in the right order?"  
  
"Of course I'm certain," Madam Pince said, frowning at her, her attention divided between Sinistra and the bickering going on between Harry and Draco.  
  
"Oh good," Sinistra said, giving her a slightly unpleasant smile as she skimmed the incantation before starting to read it. From the sofa, Harry and Draco didn't notice, embroiled as they were in dredging up Draco's parents, Harry's obvious crush on Cedric Diggory, Draco's obvious crush on Professor Snape, and Harry's martyr complex.  
  
"Well, _YOU_ use my toothbrush!"  
  
"It looks exactly like mine! _YOU_ got off with Ginny Weasley during sixth year and tried to kill me!"  
  
"I did not! ...Well, I did. At least, the part about Ginny, but there was a monster in my chest and I was obsessed with you and anyway I'm gay now! And you dated Pansy!"  
  
"Yes, but we were discreet enough _not_ to engage in disgusting public displays of affection!"  
  
"Ohoho, unattracted to each other, you mean!"  
  
"I'M A MALFOY, I ATTRACT EVERYONE!" Draco screeched.  
  
"Um," Professor Sprout said, sounding worried. From the bottom of the statue, Professor Sinistra and the notebook in her hands were starting to glow, as she read the steps slowly. "...um."  
  
"Boys?" Madam Pomfrey ventured, tremulously.  
  
"OH. MY. GOD," Harry squawked, "Yeah, it must be the VEELA BLOOD."  
  
"OH," Draco snarled, "you KNOW that's a myth, you FOUR-EYED SON OF A B - "  
  
"BOYS!" Madam Pince shouted, earning both their attention and quickly redirecting it via flaily hand signals towards where the air around Professor Sinistra was beginning to glow.  
  
"Look what you did," Draco hissed at Harry.  
  
"What _I_ did!" Harry couldn't help squawking back. He was promptly hushed by the rest of the teachers, and they all watched nervously as Professor Sinistra started the final step.  
  
" _Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata,_ " she finished reciting the last step, taking a deep breath as a surge of magic pulsed through her and out into the Chamber of Secrets, through all of them. She gave them all an ecstatic smile. "It's glorious, you should feel it."  
  
"Showoff," Harry distinctly heard Madam Pince mutter. "Always has to be _first_."  
  
"Aurora, I think you'd better be careful," Professor Sprout said, looking dubiously at her. "You're getting a bit fuzzy 'round the edges."  
  
"I'm perfectly fine, you silly old thing," Professor Sinistra said tartly (around Harry and Draco, the other staff members gasped - they had a decidedly tamer idea of what a vicious insult was). Professor Sprout's eyes filled with tears, at the jab.  
  
"There's no need to be rude, dear," Poppy murmured.  
  
"Oh, hush, I'll be as rude as I like," Professor Sinistra snapped, the light around her starting to tinge green. Harry tilted his head, rising from his seat - he'd heard enough triumphant speeches from insane dark wizards to know the warning signs, and a sudden display of nastiness and the colour green were near the top of the list. (The colour red and Persian cats weren't far behind.) "No, don't get up!" Aurora smiled, extending a hand towards him and firing off a nonverbal spell - suddenly neither Harry nor Draco could move. "Wouldn't want you to miss anything."  
  
_God, why can't they ever come up with anything NEW to say?_ Harry wondered to himself. _And why do they always try to be polite? Same bloody thing over and over._  
  
"Really, Aurora, it's not fair of you to be so pushy," Madam Pince said, giving her a wary look. "You could've waited your turn."  
  
"Oh, shut up, you've already _got_ a boyfriend. It's not my fault he prefers his cat to you," Professor Sinistra spat, raising her hands over her head. The air crackled between her hands as she started the final step of the spell. " _Ash to fire, dust to earth. Give the one I choose rebirth_ \- "  
  
"Really, a nice 'come back, please' would do," Madam Pince scoffed.  
  
"Always been a bit of a drama queen," Madam Pomfrey agreed, in an undertone. Beside them, Harry gurgled his displeasure at the tackiness of the show as well.  
  
"By the power of Heaven and Hell, I call back SALAZAR SLYTH - whurp!" Professor Sinistra squeaked, as she was suddenly rugby-tackled in the middle of her invocation, by Professor Longbottom. The magic that pulsed throughout the room rushed out with a large clap like thunder, and the light that had shone around her fizzled into nothingness. At the base of the statue, the two elderly women grappled with each other, Professor Sinistra spitting invectives as she tried to grab hold of the notebook again. Professor Longbottom, however, was built like a fullback and managed to pin her after a moment by hiking up her own skirt and sitting on her chest.  
  
" _Finite incantatem_!" Augusta shouted over towards Harry and Draco, who celebrated their returned mobility by collapsing. Quickly, she cast a _Petrificus Totalus_ at Professor Sinistra, who locked up rigid as a board, and stumbled back towards the rest of the group. "Thanks so much for the _help_ ," she spat, panting, pushing her hat back on her head. The vulture on top had fallen forward, so that it seemed to be peering at her forehead. She gave it a swat.  
  
"You had things well under control. Tea?" Madam Pomfrey offered, giving her a smile.  
  
Augusta Longbottom glowered, chest puffing, and then sagged and nodded. "Yes, thankyou," she murmured, taking the offered cup and settling down with it. Pulling himself back up onto the sofa, Harry wheezed and then glared at them all.  
  
"You're just going to _leave_ her there on the _floor_?" he asked, incredulous.  
  
"Well, we can't let her go, who knows what she might do!" Pomfrey pointed out.  
  
"TAKE HER TO THE AURORS!" Harry shouted, flabbergasted as he watched them all keep sipping their tea. "Tell them what happened! Professor Longbottom, you should come too, since you were the one who apprehended her - "  
  
"Thanks for the help, by the way," Augusta smirked. "Nice to have ex-Aurors on the staff to oversee our protection."  
  
"We were incapacitated," Draco groaned, finally pulling himself up from the floor since his arms had started working again. "Harry's right, we should take her."  
  
"Oh, well, you two go ahead, we'll just finish up here," Professor Longbottom shrugged.  
  
"But you have to come, you're a witness! And you!" Harry said, pointing to Pomfrey and Pince and Sprout. "We all have to go down to the station and...um." He blinked, and then squinted at Professor Longbottom, whose nose had suddenly grown a prominent hook. "Sorry, did your - " he trailed off, not sure what to say.  
  
"What?" Augusta asked, her mouth full of biscuit. Underneath the hat, her hair was slowly losing its grey and lengthening, and the fingers holding the other half of a biscuit to her mouth were growing longer as well. She glanced down, and paled ( _all_ of her paled, not just her face - she'd just turned three shades whiter). "Shit. Erm...must've forgot to take my medicine this morning! Forget my head if it wasn't attached, I'll just - " she made to stand.  
  
Harry whipped out his wand, and held it at her throat. "Don't move," he hissed, his eyes narrowing. "This medicine. D'you have to take it every hour, on the hour?"  
  
Augusta (who'd just grown approximately seven inches, her sleeves now halfway up her lower arms), gave Harry a wary look. "Potter, you don't know what you're - " she cleared her voice, since it had just seemed to drop an octave and a half. Trying again, she sounded like Milton Berle attempting drag. "You don't know what you're doing."  
  
"Oh my god," Draco breathed, still half on the floor. "Neville's grandmother was a _man_!" He tilted his head. "...Actually, it explains a lot."  
  
"That's not Neville's grandmother," Harry hissed, eyes going slittier as Augusta's faced thinned and assumed a familiar pallor. "That's - "  
  
"Ohmygod, _Severus_?" Draco squeaked, scrambling onto his feet quickly. He closed the distance between them, unwittingly coming between Snape and Harry's wand, beaming up at him as he reached to take the ridiculous hat off. "It _is_ you!"  
  
Snape glanced over at Potter, who looked nonplussed and a bit put out that Draco had come between them. He smirked a little, and nodded, and didn't much protest when Draco threw his arms around him two seconds later, since it made Potter go purple. "Yes, yes, hello to you too."  
  
Behind them, Mesdames Pomfrey, Pince, and Sprout were watching avidly, munching on biscuits as their gaze kept flitting from where Draco and Snape were as good as _wrapped around each other_ to where Harry was standing and looking on. "This is better than _WestEnders_ ," Pomfrey muttered to Sprout, who nodded ( _WestEnders_ was the name of the WWN's most popular and longest-running soap).  
  
"I thought you were dead! _Everyone_ thought you were dead - "  
  
"And how much happier we were, for it," Harry muttered to himself, folding his arms and scowling at the happy reunion.  
  
" - why the hell have you been _here_?"  
  
"I made a promise to keep Hogwarts safe, after," Snape explained simply. Draco beamed up at him. Harry made a face, and then made a _worse_ face when he realised that Draco was _stroking Snape's hair_.  
  
"Oh, sure," Harry snapped, unable to keep quiet any longer. "You made a promise to stay here so that you wouldn't get _caught_. But you're still wanted by the Aurors for questioning, and if there's any justice in the _world_ they'll go ahead and arrest you too. You're coming with us." He stomped over and tugged Draco off of Snape, ignoring Malfoy's squawk as he turned his old professor around and produced the standard set of Apparation-warded handcuffs every Auror kept on his person for arrests (that he and Draco had made more creative use of them in the past week was of no consequence whatsoever). He cuffed Snape, and whirled around to glare at Draco. "We're taking them both. I don't want to hear it."  
  
Draco glowered at him. "You're _such_ a child."  
  
"You have daddy issues," Harry snapped back, grumbling about overgrown bats and people being _hot for teacher_. "Get your cloak, we're leaving," he ordered. "Pince! Show us the way out." Madam Pince frowned, but set down her tea and did as she was told, though she did hiss for Poppy and Pomona not to discuss _anything_ til she got back, she wanted to hear. Harry and Draco and Snape followed behind, with Harry levitating Professor Sinistra along behind them.  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"What d'you _mean_ you can't arrest him! He's - _HIM_!" The sound of Potter's shouts echoed down the whole of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and into the Ministry of Magic proper. After a few more seconds of earnest muttering from Head Auror Shacklebolt about covert operations for the Order and _Veritaserum_ tests, Harry lost his temper entirely and stormed out of the Auror offices, accidentally upending the water cooler with a stray bolt of excess magic. "Not bloody going to arrest him, FINE, I'll just take him _upstairs_ ," he muttered through clenched teeth, ignoring the way Draco was yapping at him, and the way Snape kept stumbling in his too-tight heels (he was still wearing one of Augusta Longbottom's dresses) behind him.  
  
"They took Sinistra though! That's good enough, isn't it? ...Potter, you've gone _insane_ , he's _innocent_ \- " Draco tried again, trotting to catch up with him as Harry slammed his hand against the lift button and waited for it to open.  
  
"There's no reasoning with him, Draco, save your breath," Snape drawled, giving Harry a sanctimonious look. Harry wanted to wipe it off with the back of a shovel.  
  
"Yeah, like you reasoned with Dumbledore?" Harry spat, enjoying the way Snape flinched at the memory. "Like it or not, you've got things you have to pay for. And I look forward to making _sure_ you do." He pushed Snape into the lift and hit the top button. Draco slipped inside, his arms folded as he glared at Harry. Harry pretended not to care.  
  
"He's not going to see you if you don't have an appointment, you know how busy he is," Draco snapped.  
  
"He will if I bring him _this_ ," Harry muttered back, rattling the cuffs that were still on Snape.  
  
"Who's 'he'?" Snape asked, sounding almost as if he was enjoying Harry's anger, finding it somehow amusing.  
  
"Oh, just the Minister of Magic," Harry said airily. He hadn't really expected much of a reaction at that, but suddenly, Snape went still and quiet beside him. "What, that's got you scared?" Harry smirked, wolfishly. "Good. ...You know, your old friends killed three of his brothers during the last battle. Wonder what he'll have to say about that."  
  
"...Potter, don't do this," Snape murmured, his voice gone low and urgent.  
  
"Oh, I think I will. Thanks, though, for the suggestion." Harry blinked a moment later - was Snape _shaking_?  
  
" _Please_ ," Snape hissed, a moment later, as they all watched the numbers on the elevator climb higher and higher.  
  
"Not a chance," Harry said, though he felt an uncomfortable twinge of guilt deep in his stomach. _It's Snape_ , he told it, and set his jaw firmly.  
  
"Harry," Draco said, sounding nervous.  
  
" _No._ "  
  
The elevator bell rang, and the doors opened. Harry paused a second, but then steadied himself and pushed Snape out into the foyer first, following after. He didn't look back to see if Draco had got off behind them, but ploughed further, dragging an extremely reluctant Snape into the Minister's waiting room. Percy's secretary, Lavender Brown, gaped up at them for a moment before squeaking and getting on the telephone (Percy'd had them installed throughout the Ministry) and saying there was an _urgent_ visitor for the Minister. She gave Harry an apologetic look and had to turn her back, the conversation with whoever was on the other end of the phone turning into whispers.  
  
After a few minutes of whispering, she turned back around and gave Harry a terrified smile. "You can go in now." Harry gave her a smirk and nodded, and tugged on Snape's cuffs ungently, making him stumble again as he led him into the Oblong Office.  
  
From the other side of the room, Percy glanced up from the memos his PA was handing him, and immediately went grey.  
  
"Hi, Perce! Look what I brought y - " Harry began, but he was interrupted as Snape suddenly shoved him out of the way, putting himself a few steps ahead as they walked into the middle of the office.  
  
"Hello," Snape murmured, his voice low and suddenly somewhat thick. Harry felt Draco come to stand beside him, but didn't turn to check.  
  
"But you..." Percy started, then seemed to have no idea how to end the sentence and he stopped, his eyes wide and terrified behind his glasses, as if he were seeing a ghost. "I thought. You _let_ me think that you - "  
  
"I made a promise. It was necessary," Snape said quietly, slowly approaching the desk. "I wished it hadn't been."  
  
Flushing, Percy nodded and swallowed, suddenly looking about fifteen years old again. "Where - ?"  
  
"Hogwarts. Potions, as ever - ironic that even _you_ didn't allow me to teach Defence again," Snape snorted. Harry gaped at them both, uncomfortable with how he had _no idea_ what was going on. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."  
  
Minister Weasley nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. He fiddled with the paperweight on his desk, arranging it perpendicular to the edge of his inbox. "You were safe, then."  
  
"Yes." Snape paused, twisted his wrists inside their handcuffs. "...And very proud," he added, almost too low for Harry to hear. There was a tense, silent pause in the room - Harry and Draco looked at each other nervously - and then Percy broke the silence by making a strangled little noise, ducking his chin.  
  
"I did hope," he managed, voice wobbling a little. "I tried to think of what you would - " he swallowed and shook his head, gesturing the rest of the sentence. Snape hurried away from the edge of the desk, crossing around it to take Percy's hands. There was an awkward moment where they both tried to manoeuvre around the handcuffs, but then Percy gave up and spelled them away. Snape immediately tugged Percy into his arms. Beside Harry, he could hear Draco give a little sniff. "Are you going to leave again?"  
  
"No," Snape said firmly, "Never again." And with that, he bent down and claimed Percy's lips with his own, kissing the Minister of Magic until he sagged against him, slid his arms up and around Snape's shoulders. Harry glanced over at Draco, who was discreetly wiping one of his eyes, and then looked back over at Snape and Percy, whose kiss was rapidly approaching indecent. Percy's PA, Justin Finch-Fletchley, looked simultaneously aroused and heartbroken.  
  
"...Okay, what the FUCK is going on?" Harry demanded, his hands suddenly on his hips. "Did Snape just get away with everything?"  
  
"Yes," Draco said, threading an arm around his waist and propping his chin on Harry's shoulder. "Though now he has to put up with the media blitz of dating the Minister, and he has to deal with Percy too. It's a fair trade-off, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Harry scowled, watching Snape lower Percy down onto the Ministerial desk, watching Justin squeak and flee as buttons suddenly went flying. "...Only if we can get Rita Skeeter to come out of retirement," he grumbled, tugging Draco into a hug. "...You're sure he was on our side?"  
  
"Mhm. Now, kiss me. I'm getting jealous of them having all the fun."  
  
  
\---  
  
  
"Poor bastard," Harry sighed, wincing at the latest _Daily Prophet_ headline (" _Snape. Severus Snape_ : How One Man Saved the Nation and Captured the Heart of Its Leader"). "They'll never leave him alone after this. ...Though I do like how _he_ saved the country while I only killed the worst Dark Lork to be produced in...seventy-five years."  
  
"Are you really complaining?" Draco asked, coming out of the bathroom and crawling under the sheets beside him. He gave Harry a brief kiss and then grimaced. "I hate that toothpaste you bought. It makes you taste like soap."  
  
"Or it could be the _soap_ that makes me taste like soap."  
  
"Either way, it's keeping me from kissing you. Buy a new kind."  
  
"Yes sir," Harry drawled, setting the newspaper down. "I have a lesson in an hour, I need to shower." Despite tasting like soap, he leaned over to kiss Draco again before sliding out of the bed, and padded over to the bathroom. "Professor Sprout wants you to show her that de-grubbing Charm you showed me last week," he called over the sudden spray of the showerhead.  
  
"All right, I'll go by the greenhouses at lunch," Draco called back, tugging the newspaper over to his side of the bed and scanning the society page before slipping into a doze. He didn't wake til Harry thumped the mattress as he came back from his shower.  
  
"Oi, wake up. Shower's free," he said, towelling off his hair. Draco lolled onto his back and groaned, eyes staying closed til Harry flicked water on him. He squawked and sat up, grinning.  
  
"I hate morning people."  
  
"They hate you too. Oh, you have mail," Harry said, surprised, as he picked up a small parcel from the windowsill and tossed it over towards the bed. Draco caught it one-handed, and gave Harry a smug smirk before unwrapping and inspecting it. Harry went back to drying his hair and half-heartedly dressing for the day.  
  
"Oh, it's from Percy - he and Severus are coming back from their holiday early, surprise surprise. Wizengamot reconvening or something, I read about it in the _Prophet_ a couple of days ago. Stupid sods."  
  
"Both going to die of heart attacks in ten years, m'telling you."  
  
"He says he wants to meet with us when he gets back in London," Draco said, sounding bemused. "...He has a mission for us in America, he says not to mention the letter to anyone. Huh."  
  
"Well, tell him m'not going anywhere til the Quidditch season's over, Gryffindor's going to get that c - "  
  
"Harry!"  
  
The squeakiness of Draco's voice made him turn around and rush over - Draco had opened the small box that had accompanied Percy's letter and was staring, horrified, at the contents. Harry peered over his shoulder and sucked in a breath. "Oh, you've got to be kidding."  
  
Dumbfounded, Draco turned the box over onto the bedsheet between his legs.  
  
There, nestled together on the fabric, were two matching gold rings.

**Author's Note:**

> Things I stole from Terry Pratchett's Discworld: the Oblong Office, the reference to "Music With Rocks In," the idea of feral banshees.  
> Phrase "pussy posse" stolen from "Sex in the City."  
> "Lay on, Macduff" is stolen from Shakespeare's "Macbeth."  
> Draco makes a subtle reference to "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret." because, um...Purebloods totally read Judy Blume.  
> the David & Jonathan quote is taken from 2 Samuel chapter 1 in the KJV Bible.  
> One of the Hogwarts students is named after a character in Bridget Jones's Diary, for no discernible reason. ...I'm just crap at coming up with wizard-sounding names.  
> "'...bater'" is TOTALLY stolen from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  
> "Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" is found in the Upanishads and means "Give, sympathise, control."


End file.
